


A Tricky Gray Area

by Anonymous



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Anorexia, Brother/Sister Incest, Cancer, Canon Compliant, F/M, the 80s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-22 23:42:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 76
Words: 124,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In case you didn't catch it, the title is a reference to George Michael's sign at theDangerous Cousinsprotest in "The Righteous Brothers" that said "This is a tricky gray area."





	1. Intro

madeline7's grand Michael/Lindsay fic was originally published on [livejournal](https://bluthcest.livejournal.com/53850.html). I'm crossposting it here just because it's wonderful. People searching for Michael/Lindsay fic deserve to be able to find it, and the fic deserves all those readers. Please direct your praise back to madeline7. Thank you, and enjoy.

This fic consists of 3 parts.

  1. [Part one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607657/chapters/38925596) covers 1983-1987, and was published on November 27, 2015
  2. [Part two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607657/chapters/38929871) covers 1987-2003, and was published on January 13, 2017
  3. [Part three](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607657/chapters/38941130) covers 2003-2011, and was published on September 8, 2017



There is a soundtrack, mostly of music from around the same time as the scene. If you want to listen to it, each time you come to a linked word, click it and play the song it takes you to until you get to the next linked word.


	2. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't catch it, the title is a reference to George Michael's sign at the _Dangerous Cousins_ protest in "The Righteous Brothers" that said "This is a tricky gray area."

**December, 2003**

Lindsay sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room of the model home across from her brother, who was leaning against the couch, clutching a bottle of vodka.

“Listen,” she said, putting her hand on Michael’s knee. Her words were slurred from the seven drinks she’d just had. “You’re a _great_ guy, and if she doesn’t see that, then someone else will.”

“You know what else, Lindsay, you’re great,” Michael said thickly, pouring himself another drink. “And I’m gonna move some money around if it’s gonna help you get out of debt, you know, I’d be happy to do that.”

“No, Michael—”

“Yeah, the hell with Mom, and here,” he said, raising his glass. “Mom’s never gonna between us again.”

“Yeah,” Lindsay agreed, clinking her glass with his. She looked up at him and smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time they had talked like this. “It’s really nice living with you again,” she said. Michael looked up at her, surprised. He smiled warmly at her.

“It’s nice having you here,” he said.

Lindsay smiled back at him, then looked away, surprised by the sudden emotion she felt. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this. She twisted the hem of her skirt around her finger, trying to sort through her thoughts. She wished she hadn’t drunk so much.

“It feels kinda like high school,” she said. She looked up at him and watched him closely to see his reaction.

“Yeah, kind of,” he said. He looked a little nervous. Her heart beat faster. She watched him lean his head back against the couch and close his eyes.

“We were so close then,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Yeah,” he said. She could hear the apprehension in his voice. She hesitated.

“A little too close,” she said teasingly.

Michael opened his eyes. He lifted his head from the couch and stared at her. She smirked at the look on his face. He laughed uncomfortably and looked down at the floor. “Yeah,” he agreed. He shook his head and laughed again, still not meeting her eyes. “I thought we were pretending that never happened.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said jokingly. “I think it’s been long enough now.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said hesitantly. “No, it hasn’t. It will _never_ be long enough.” He said it like a joke but she could tell that he meant it.

“Okay, okay, I got it,” she laughed. “I won’t bring it up again.”

“Thanks,” he said gratefully.

She sighed and lay down on the floor. “I’m too tired to go upstairs. I’m just gonna sleep here.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “On the floor?”

“Yeah, on the floor,” she said, stretching out her arms.

“You know, there’s a couch right there,” he pointed out.

“Ugh, fine,” she groaned, sitting up and getting unsteadily to her feet. She tripped and fell against the wall, causing the light fixture to fall off and hit the floor with a crash.

“Whoa,” Michael said, getting up to help her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, turning to face him. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw how close he was. They looked at each other for a moment, surprised to find themselves there. His face turned red and he let go of her and stepped back. She looked away, feeling confused.

“Sorry about the light,” she said awkwardly.

“It’s fine, happens all the time,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

They stood there, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them. “Well, I’m going to sleep,” she said abruptly. She staggered to the couch and collapsed on it.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, turning away and walking out of the room.

“Good night,” she called after him.

“Good night,” he said without looking back. She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, her head aching. She listened to the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. Her heart was still beating fast. She tried to sift through the emotions spinning around her brain as it gradually slowed down, but she quickly gave up and let herself drift off to sleep.


	3. Part 1, Chapter 1

**April, 1983**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPOIS5taqA8) sat at his desk, crossing out the times he’d written throughout the day and putting tally marks next to his list of corresponding half-hour intervals. He heard a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he said, looking up as his twin sister came into the room, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and squeezing two glasses against her body with her other arm.

“Look what I’ve got,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Mom left it out. Do you want to try it?”

“Isn’t it illegal?” Michael said uncertainly.

She laughed. “That’s what makes it _fun_. And I think it’s only illegal for other people to sell it to us or something. Anyway, Mom and Dad are gone at that dinner thing so we’re not going to get caught.” She walked over to him and set the bottle and glasses on the desk. “Come on, it will be fun.”

“Okay,” Michael said, embarrassed at his hesitation.

“Great,” she said brightly and poured the drinks, filling the glasses to the top. She picked up her glass. “Cheers!” she said.

“Cheers,” Michael laughed, picking up his glass and clinking it with hers. He watched her take a drink, then quickly drank his before she noticed his hesitation. He winced at the bitter taste and the prickly sensation in his throat. Why did people drink this stuff? He could tell from Lindsay’s face that she was similarly unimpressed, but she didn’t say so, so he didn’t either.

“What are you working on?” she asked, pulling his list closer to her. “Oh my god, are you doing homework on a Saturday night?”

“No, I’ve been keeping track of when I sell the most bananas to figure out when my lunch break should be,” he told her. Lindsay stared at him in disbelief.

“Okay, it’s a good thing I interrupted this,” she said. “Come on, let’s sit on the bed.” She took her drink and pranced over to the bed. She positioned his pillow against the headboard and leaned against it. He got up from his desk and sat down next to her, already feeling a little light-headed, his face growing warm.

“So, I bought my dress for the Eighth Grade Prom today,” she said cheerfully. “It’s _so_ cute. It’s black and strapless with little differently colored dots all over the skirt. Oh, and it’s got this adorable hot pink bow…”

“That’s great, Lindsay,” Michael said sarcastically. Lindsay had a tendency to hijack their conversations and go on and on about things that only concerned her. She smirked and took another sip of her drink.

“You know what Mom said when I showed her the dress?” she continued. “She said, ‘Are you sure you don’t want something longer to cover up those chubby legs?’”

“Wow,” he said.

“I know, right?” She forced a laugh, but the bitterness was plain in her voice. “You don’t think my legs are chubby, do you?”

“No, of course not,” Michael said automatically.

“Really?” she pressed. “You’re not just saying that to be nice?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not just saying that to be nice,” he said, pretending to be exasperated even though he wasn’t.

She smiled warmly at him. “Thanks,” she said.

Michael was used to Lindsay constantly asking him for reassurance that she was pretty. He didn’t mind. It was understandable given how frequently their mother criticized her, and it was nice to feel needed.

He saw that her glass was already half empty. He reluctantly drank more, trying to catch up. It really was disgusting.

“Anyway,” Lindsay continued, taking another sip. “Who are you taking to the dance?”

“It’s an eighth grade dance, you don’t need a date.”

“It’s an eighth grade _prom_ , and yes, you do,” she corrected. “At least you do if you don’t want to look like a loser.”

“Lots of people are going without dates,” he said defensively. “And they don’t even call it the Eighth Grade Prom anymore.” The school had changed the name two years ago when people started showing up in limos, but Lindsay still insisted on calling it the Eighth Grade Prom.

“Come on, isn’t there anyone you want to ask?” she pressed.

“No, there isn’t,” he said flatly, starting to get annoyed.

“What about Sally Sitwell? She likes you.”

“She does?”

“Ha! I knew it!” she said triumphantly. “I knew you liked her!”

“Oh,” he said, annoyed and embarrassed. “So you were just making that up?”

“Oh, no, it’s true,” she said quickly. “She _definitely_ likes you, it’s really obvious,” she said, her words a little slurred.

This was news to Michael. He’d had a crush on Sally for over a year, but he’d always thought it was unreciprocated. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“ _Yes._ So you should ask her! She’ll be thrilled.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll think about it!”

“Oh my _god_ , Michael. She likes you, you like her, what is there to think about?”

“I’m not sure I want to go with her,” he protested.

“Yes, you do, you’re just scared.”

“No, that’s not true—”

Lindsay began to do her signature chicken dance, a practice she’d adopted from their older brother. “Cha, chee cha, chee cha!”

“Oh, goddamn it,” he said. “Stop!”

“Cha, chee cha, chee cha!”

“Okay, fine, I’ll ask her!” he snapped.

“Good,” she said smugly. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “That doesn’t even look like a chicken.”

Lindsay laughed and leaned her head back against the wall. “Okay, I’m starting to feel drunk,” she said. “What about you?”

“Yeah, a little,” he said, his head feeling a little fuzzy.

“Good,” she laughed, getting off the bed and walking over to the desk, a little unsteady. “You need to loosen up more.” She refilled her glass.

“Aren’t you starting to feel sick?” Michael asked, surprised.

“Not really,” she replied, her voice a little slurred.

“Alright,” he said skeptically. He was starting to feel a little nauseous himself, and she’d had almost twice as much as him. He wondered if she was pretending to like it more than she did.

She walked back to the bed. “Scoot over,” she said, sitting down next to him. Her black and white check skirt slipped down to show her thigh as she sat, but she didn’t fix it. “You haven’t asked me about my date to the dance yet,” she said.

“That’s ‘cause I already know who it is,” he said. “You’ve told me _a million_ times.”

“Yes, because it’s _Brian Peterson._ He’s like the cutest guy in the whole school!”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that a million times, too.”

“Ugh, fine. What d’you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Anything but Brian Peterson.”

“Okay,” she said, the corners of her mouth curling up into a sly smile. “We’ll talk about Sally, then.”

“No, that’s worse—”

“You said anything!”

“Oh my god.”

She laughed and took another sip of her drink. “She’s gonna say yes, you know.”

He hesitated. “You really think so?”

 _“Yes,”_ she said emphatically, grabbing his arm. “And she should. You’re a great guy.”

“Thanks,” he said, surprised. “You’re pretty great, too,” he added.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” she teased. She smiled at him. “This is fun.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He really was enjoying himself now. There was something exciting about breaking the rules, especially with someone as cool as Lindsay. Though he would never admit it, he was more than a little jealous of his twin sister’s popularity.

“Ugh,” she said suddenly, sitting up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, just feeling a little sick.”

Michael looked at her glass and saw that it was almost empty. “Yeah, I can see why.”

“Shut up,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes.

“You okay?” he laughed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she snapped. She sat up suddenly. “Oh god, I think I’m gonna throw up,” she said, and got up and ran out of the room.


	4. Part 1, Chapter 2

**February, 1984**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL27Gis-Cyw) hurried into her room, threw her backpack on the floor, and went straight to her closet. She stood on her toes and reached for the top shelf, feeling around for her copy of _Flowers in the Attic_. She found it and pulled it down from the shelf, then jumped onto her bed and rapidly flipped through the pages, trying to find her place.

That morning she’d gotten ready for school as quickly as she could so she would have time to read. She’d just gotten to the part where Chris came into the bathroom while Cathy was admiring her naked body in the mirror when Michael called to her from downstairs to tell her it was time to go. She’d frantically read two more paragraphs before he’d called her again to ask what was taking so long, after which she’d quickly returned the book to its hiding place and hurried downstairs. She’d spent the whole day at school dying to know what happened next.

She found her place and resisted the temptation to read from where she’d left off, starting instead where Chris first came into the room. Now that she had time she wanted to read it slowly to fully take it in.

> _A rippling sensation on the back of my neck gave me the awareness that someone was near, and watching. I whirled about suddenly to catch Chris standing in the deep shadows of the closet. Silently he'd come from the attic. How long had he been there? Had he seen all the silly, immodest things I'd done? Oh, God, I hoped not!_
> 
> _He stood as one frozen. A queer look glazed his blue eyes, as if he'd never seen me before without my clothes on—and he had, many a time. Perhaps when the twins were there, sunbathing with us, he kept his thoughts brotherly and pure, and didn't really stare._
> 
> _His eyes lowered from my flushed face down to my breasts, then lower, and lower, and down to my feet before they traveled upward ever so slowly._
> 
> _I stood trembling, uncertain, wondering what to do that wouldn't make me seem a foolish prude in the judgment of a brother who knew well how to mock me when he chose. He seemed a stranger, older, like someone I had never met before. He also seemed weak, dazed, perplexed, and if I moved to cover myself, I'd steal from him something he'd been starving to see. Time seemed to stand still as he lingered in the closet, and I hesitated before the dresser which revealed to him the rear view, too, for I saw his eyes flick to the mirror to take in what that reflected._
> 
> _"Chris, please go away."_
> 
> _He didn't seem to hear._
> 
> _He only stared._
> 
> _I blushed all over and felt perspiration under my arms, and a funny pounding began in my pulse. I felt like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, guilty of some petty crime, and terribly afraid of being severely punished for almost nothing. But his look, his eyes, made me come alive, and my heart began a fierce, mad throbbing, full of fright. Why should I be afraid? It was only Chris._
> 
> _For the first time I felt embarrassed, ashamed of what I had now, and quickly I reached to pick up the dress I'd just taken off. Behind that I would shield myself, and I'd tell him to go away._
> 
> _"Don't," he said when I had the dress in my hands._
> 
> _"You shouldn't..." I stammered, trembling more._
> 
> _"I know I shouldn't be, but you look so beautiful. It's like I never saw you before. How did you grow so lovely, when I was here all the time?"_
> 
> _How to answer a question like that? Except to look at him, and plead with my eyes._
> 
> _Just then, behind me, a key turned in the door lock._

“Damn!” Lindsay whispered. She read a few more paragraphs, then flipped ahead when it was clear nothing more was going to happen, scanning the pages. A promising sentence caught her eye: _"That night I went to sleep thinking about his kiss."_ She stopped reading, deciding she didn’t want to spoil the surprise. She memorized the page number so she would know how close she was to it, then turned back to the page she was on and continued reading.

A few days ago a friend had told her about a book she’d read about a girl locked in an attic who has sex with her brother. Lindsay was immediately intrigued and asked to borrow her copy. Since then she’d been secretly reading it every chance she got. She felt a little uncomfortable about enjoying it so much, but it was only because it was so taboo. It had nothing to do with how she felt about Michael, or her other brothers.


	5. Part 1, Chapter 3

**June, 1985**

[“Gentlemen,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPudE8nDog0) start your engines,” Michael said to himself as he watched a tall blonde walking down the boardwalk, wearing heels and a tight denim skirt. Lindsay had a skirt like that…

“Shit,” he said as his twin sister turned around. She smiled and waved at him and made her way towards the banana stand, where he was working. He waved back, feeling very uncomfortable. It didn’t mean anything, he hadn’t realized it was her. He tried not to think about the dream he’d had about her a few nights ago, which was disconcerting enough on its own but made much worse by the fact that it was not the first dream he’d had about her.

“Hi,” Lindsay said brightly when she reached the banana stand.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, not meeting her eyes.

“What’s up with you?”

“What? Nothing,” he said quickly.

She raised her eyebrows. “Okay,” she said. “Um, can I have a Giddy Girly Banana?”

“Sure,” he said. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he took a frozen banana out of the freezer and dipped it in chocolate sauce.

“I’m meeting Andrew in about ten minutes,” she said.

“Oh,” Michael said, feeling a twinge of annoyance. Andrew was Lindsay’s new boyfriend. Michael didn’t particularly like him, partly because Lindsay wouldn’t stop talking about him and partly because he thought it was weird that someone who was about to start college was dating someone who was going into her sophomore year of high school. True, if Lindsay hadn’t repeated ninth grade she would be going into her junior year, but it was still a two-year age difference.

He finished rolling the banana in candy hearts and handed it to her. “Okay, that’s ninety-nine cents,” he said.

“You’re joking, right?”

“What?”

“I don’t need to pay for this.”

“Uh, yeah, you do.”

“It’s a Bluth Frozen Banana! I’m a Bluth!”

“Sorry, Dad checks at the end of each week and the number of bananas has to match the amount of money in here.”

“Dad would be okay with it,” she said. Michael laughed.

“No, he would not. Trust me, I’ve asked him, I’m not allowed to have any without paying.”

“I’m calling him.”

“Seriously?”

She stalked over to a nearby payphone. “It’s ninety-nine cents!” he called after her. “You’re paying almost that much for the phone call!” he added as she dialed the number.

“Hey, Dad, it’s Linds,” she said. “Yeah, I’m at the banana stand right now and Michael says I have to pay for a frozen banana, but it’s free for me, right? Thanks, I’ll tell him. Bye, love you!” she hung up and turned to Michael. “He says you have to give it to me.”

“What?” he said angrily.

“You heard me!” she said as she returned to the stand.

“Fine, here,” he snapped, handing her the banana.

“Thank you,” she said gloatingly and took the banana and flounced away.


	6. Part 1, Chapter 4

**December, 1985**

[“Almost](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kcUaYuCxg4) ready?” Michael said, coming into Lindsay’s room as she did her hair and makeup for school.

“Almost,” she said, not taking her eyes from the mirror of her vanity as she carefully applied electric blue mascara. “Hey, do you think you could help me with my English essay tonight?”

“When you say help, do you mean edit it or write it for you?”

“Um…I was thinking more on the write-it-for me side—”

“No.”

“Michael—”

“No! I don’t have time to do all your homework for you!”

“Please, I really need to bring up my grade in this class,” she pleaded. He hesitated. She knew she’d chosen the right tactic, as Michael seemed to care more about her grades than she did.

“Look, I’ll edit it for you, but you’re writing it yourself,” he said.

“Fine,” she sighed, trying not to smile. Michael had ‘edited’ her essays before, which basically meant she gave him a few half-baked ideas and he came up with a topic and outline for her and then edited what she wrote so heavily that it was pretty much his essay. She’d asked him to write it for her so he would think he’d won when he agreed to help, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to show off.

“Okay, we’d better go,” he said.

“One second,” she said as she sprayed on Liz Claiborne perfume.

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“We’re not going to be late,” she sighed, tousling her hair with her fingers one last time and inspecting the results in the mirror. “Okay, done.” She got up and grabbed her backpack from the bed.

“Good, let’s go,” he said impatiently.

“Jeez, we’re only…three minutes late,” she said, glancing at her alarm clock as she followed him out of the room. The door to their parents’ room opened and their mother came into the hallway.

“Oh, Lindsay, before you go,” Lucille said. Michael groaned impatiently. “Early birthday present,” she said, handing her a check.

“Oh, thanks!” Lindsay said, eagerly taking the check. Her eyes widened when she saw the amount. “Oh my god, three thousand dollars!” she said in disbelief. Then she saw the rest of it. “‘A new nosey?’” she read.

“It’s for plastic surgery,” Lucille explained. “It’s about time we did something about that nose of yours.”

It felt like she’d been slapped. Her mother had always criticized her appearance, but she’d never done something like this. She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment as she scrambled to find something to say.

“Jesus, Mom!” Michael said angrily. Lindsay felt a rush of gratitude for him.

“What?” Lucille said. “She looks like a can opener!”

“No, she doesn’t! You’ve got to stop saying stuff like this!”

“Yeah, what kind of mother are you?!” Lindsay said, finally finding the words, though she was still stinging from the can opener comment. Lucille turned to her.

“So you don’t want it?” she said, surprised.

“No, I don’t want it!” Lindsay said angrily, giving the check back to her. “How can you treat me this way?”

“Good grief, I was only trying to help you. You should be thanking me!”

“Thanking you?!” Lindsay repeated incredulously, the pitch of her voice rising.

“Come on, Lindsay, let’s go,” Michael said, touching her arm.

“Right behind you,” she said, glaring at her mother as she turned and stormed down the stairs, Michael following behind her. _I hate her, I hate her,_ she thought, tears of anger welling up in her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t think that, that you weren’t supposed to hate your own mother, but what had she ever done to deserve her love? She was so sick of the constant reminders that she wasn’t pretty enough, that she was fat, that her nose was too big, reminders that were so much worse because they came from her own mother.

“Sorry about that, Linds,” Michael said when they were outside. The sky was pale gray and the air smelled like rain. “Try not to let her get to you.”

“I’m not,” Lindsay said stiffly, looking down at the driveway, which was beginning to be speckled with raindrops.

“Good,” he said, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Your nose is fine by the way,” he added. “She’s just looking for something to criticize.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly. She knew it wasn’t true, but she loved him for saying it.

“Okay, we’d better hurry, we’re really late now,” he said, getting into the car.

“We’ll be fine,” she sighed exasperatedly, but she smiled as she did. It was hard to be annoyed at him right now.


	7. Part 1, Chapter 5

**December, 1985**

[“Look](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pstVCGyaUBM) at you,” Lindsay said to herself, turning around and admiring her new outfit in the mirror from various angles. It was the night of her seventeenth birthday and her mother had taken her shopping earlier that day. She felt pretty sexy in her oversize top, tight jeans, stacked rubber bracelets, and studded high-heeled boots. Her eyes traveled upwards to her face. That looked pretty good, too, she’d done her makeup perfectly that day. All except for the nose.

She sat down on the bed and took off her boots. She’d spent the last week thinking about her mother’s offer. When she’d first given her the check she’d been so angry that she hadn’t even considered it, but later that day it hit her that she could really do it. She hated her nose. She was constantly thinking about how much prettier she would be if it was normal-sized, but there was nothing she could do to hide it. It was right in the middle of her face. She knew Michael was right that her mother was just looking for something to criticize and that she shouldn’t let it get to her, but it was hard not to when she knew that it was true. Anyone could see it, and the fact that her mother brought it up so much just reminded her how noticeable it was.

She covered her nose with her hand and looked in the mirror, trying to imagine what she would look like if she got the surgery, but she couldn’t picture it. Of course, she would have to ask her mother. It would be humiliating, especially after she’d gotten so angry at her about it before. And she would have to tell Michael. It had been so nice to have him on her side. She couldn’t bear to throw that away and give him one more reason to be disappointed in her. But as she looked in the mirror she knew she couldn’t go through her whole life being tortured by this, not when the solution was so easy. She steeled herself and went to her parents’ room and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she heard her mother say.

“Hey, sister,” her younger brother Buster said as she stepped into the room. He was sitting on the bed with their mother brushing her hair.

“Hey,” she said.

“What is it?” Lucille asked, not turning to look at her.

Lindsay hesitated, then decided it was best just to jump right into it. “Um, so I’ve been thinking about it, and I decided I actually do want to do the plastic surgery,” she said, looking down at the carpet. She reluctantly looked up as Lucille turned to her and smiled gloatingly.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll schedule the consultation.”

“Okay,” Lindsay said stiffly, and turned and left the room.

“Happy birthday!” Lucille called after her. _I hate you,_ Lindsay thought.


	8. Part 1, Chapter 6

**January, 1986**

_[“Alive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQnetLrXbLs) and kicking…”_ Lindsay sang along with the radio as she drove home from school. _“Stay until your love is…”_

“Can you please stop?” Michael groaned. She laughed.

“Fine,” she said. It had been a month since she’d decided to get the surgery, and it was scheduled for next week. She still hadn’t told Michael. She knew she would have to eventually and that the longer she waited the worse it would be, but she couldn’t stop putting it off.

“Guess what?” she said.

“What?”

“I’m going to senior prom. With Andrew, ‘cause he’s a senior.”

“That’s great,” Michael said sarcastically.

“Yeah, it is,” she said, ignoring his sarcasm.

“You know, I really don’t like Andrew.”

Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’ve made that pretty clear.”

“No, really. He’s…he’s been saying stuff about you, you know.”

“Saying stuff? Like what?”

Michael hesitated. “He’s been saying that you two have been sleeping together,” he said, clearly embarrassed.

“He has?” Lindsay said, surprised.

“Yeah, so break up with him!”

Lindsay blushed. “I don’t mind if he tells people that,” she said as she pulled into the driveway and stopped the car.

“You don’t mind?” Michael repeated. “Well, you should, he’s your boyfriend, he shouldn’t be making up rumors about you.”

“Well, he’s not making it up…”

Michael looked over at her. “What?” he said. Lindsay laughed shyly. “Since when?”

“Just last week,” she said excitedly.

“Oh,” Michael said. “I didn’t know you’d… Well, okay.” He seemed very disturbed by this news. “Don’t you think it’s a little soon?”

“Not really. We’ve been dating for almost a year.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Michael said, though he seemed to disagree. They got out of the car and walked through the gate into the backyard and in through the kitchen door.

“Wait, isn’t he eighteen?” he said suddenly.

“Yeah. So?”

“So you’re seventeen. That’s illegal, isn’t it?”

“Oh my god, Michael, he’s one year older than me.”

“Just barely! It’s more like two years, you only turned seventeen last month.”

“What are you gonna do, call the cops?”

“No, I just—whatever, do whatever you want, I guess.”

They opened the door and stepped into the house. Lindsay got a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table. Michael sat down, too. He still looked pretty upset. She wondered, not for the first time, if he had something of a crush on her. Sometimes it seemed like he did, from the way he looked at her, how he was always telling her how pretty she was, and his inexplicable dislike of every boyfriend she’d had. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in their family had been attracted to someone else in their family. She didn’t mind if he was. It wasn’t creepy or anything since she doubted he was even aware of it, and it was very flattering.

Lucille and Buster came into the room, wearing matching sailor costumes.

“We’re going to the Balboa Bay Window photo shoot, so we’ll be gone for the next few hours,” she said. “Rosa will make you something for dinner.”

“As usual,” Lindsay said under her breath. “You know, not that I’d want to, but why do you only do those creepy photo shoot things with Buster? You do have three other kids, you know.”

“Oh, please, with that nose?” Lucille said over her shoulder as she fixed Buster’s jacket. “Thank God we’re taking care of that next week.”

Lindsay froze.

“What do you mean, ‘take care of that’?” Michael said.

“The plastic surgery, of course,” Lucille said, bending down to put on her shoes.

“She’s not doing that, we already told you,” Michael said angrily. Lucille stood up and looked at him, then at Lindsay, eyebrows raised.

“Um, I actually changed my mind about that,” Lindsay said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

“What?” he said.

“Well, I’ll let you discuss this,” Lucille said, opening the door. Lindsay hated the look of amusement on her face. “Come on, Buster.”

“What do you mean, you changed your mind?” Michael said when they were gone.

“There’s no need to make a big deal about it,” Lindsay mumbled.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, I just—I don’t know,” she said helplessly.

“You can’t let her get to you like this,” he said. “You look fine, really.”

“I’m not letting her get to me, I want to do this. It’s not a big deal, lots of people do it.”

“You’re only seventeen! Just think about this.”

“I have thought about it, a lot, okay?” she snapped. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She got up and stormed out of the kitchen.

“Wait, Lindsay,” Michael called after her, but she ignored him and hurried up the stairs, tears blurring her vision.


	9. Part 1, Chapter 7

**April, 1986**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idnJnjV_8rg) looked away from the precalculus homework he had propped against the steering wheel and checked his watch. 3:46. She was sixteen minutes late. He was used to waiting for a long time for Lindsay to meet him in the car after school, but this was getting ridiculous.

Two minutes later he heard the car door open and looked up. He felt an uncomfortable jolt when he saw her. Over two months had passed since the surgery, but it was still a shock every now and then to look at her and see a face so different from the one he’d grown up with. It wasn’t that she looked bad—she looked a lot better now actually—but it was unsettling. He knew it didn’t matter, but he didn’t like the thought that she would never look the same again.

“Eighteen minutes late,” he said. She didn’t say anything as she sat down and slammed the door shut. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” she snapped.

“Alright,” he said, starting the car and backing out of the parking space. They sat in silence for a long time.

“Andrew and I broke up,” she said suddenly.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, annoyed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, realizing he may have sounded a little too happy about this news.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said, though she didn’t seem fine. “He wasn’t worth your time anyway,” he added. She didn’t say anything. He stopped at a red light and looked over at her. She was looking out the window, her head resting on her hand. He couldn’t see her eyes through the Wayfarer sunglasses she’d begged their father to buy for her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I told you I was,” she snapped. She looked back out the window. “I just wish I knew why,” she said suddenly. “It was totally out of the blue. I mean, he’s been kind of distant lately but I had no idea he wanted to break up. I just don’t know why.” Her voice broke on the last word. She took off her sunglasses and wiped her eyes, smudging her blue mascara.

“Well, what did he say?”

“He just said, ‘I think we should break up.’”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, just like that. And some bullshit about it not being about me and how he just doesn’t want to be in a relationship right now. After ten fucking months, that’s all he said.”

“Jesus,” Michael said. “Sorry, Linds.”

“And now I can’t even go to the prom,” she laughed bitterly. “I already bought my dress and everything.”

“Well, you can wear it in a year,” he pointed out.

“You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” he laughed.

She smiled. “It’s okay.”

Michael wondered if Andrew had broken up with her because of the steep fall in her popularity since she’d returned to school after the surgery. The many enemies she’d made over the years had been quick to seize the opportunity to make fun of her, and she’d quickly become known as the girl with the nose job.

“Well, he’s an idiot, he didn’t deserve you,” Michael said. She laughed through her tears.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m crying.”

“No, I mean it. He was lucky to have you.”

She looked over at him. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah, really,” he said, smiling reassuringly.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She looked out the window and laughed. “Why can’t all guys be like you?”


	10. Part 1, Chapter 8

**May, 1986**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhPocxH3bL4) walked sleepily into the kitchen, which glowed yellow in the morning light filtering in through the window, and opened the cupboard and pulled out a box of cereal. He looked up as Lindsay came down the stairs in her pink bathrobe, her hair wet from the shower.

“Good, morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she replied, going to the fridge and taking out a bottle of orange juice. She poured herself a glass and sat down at the kitchen table.

“You’re not going to eat anything?” he asked.

“No, I’m good.”

“You sure? I could get you a bowl of cereal.”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“Okay,” he said uneasily. Recently he’d noticed that Lindsay was eating less than ever and spending long periods of time swimming laps in their pool every night. He kept hoping he was imagining it, but it was getting increasingly difficult to convince himself that she wasn’t skinnier than she had been a month ago. He hoped it wasn’t because of their mother, who had shifted the focus of her criticisms from Lindsay’s nose to her weight. This was especially baffling since if anything Lindsay had been slightly underweight since middle school, a fact Michael also blamed on their mother. She’d also seemed a little down lately, spending all her time shut in her room and being very irritable. At first he’d thought she was just upset about the breakup and that it would pass, but it had been over a month and her mood hadn’t improved at all.

The one bright spot was that they were getting along better. Michael had been trying to be nicer to her after realizing how damaging her insecurity had become. She was quick to latch onto this, spending all her time with him and constantly complaining about some aspect of her appearance just to hear him say it wasn’t true. He didn’t mind. He liked the way her eyes lit up when he said it, and that she was spending her Friday nights with him on the couch watching TV instead of going out with friends like usual. He couldn’t tell if it was because she preferred spending time with him or because she was too depressed to socialize, but either way he liked that he was the one she turned to when she didn’t want to talk to anyone else. He just hoped this change in her mood was only temporary and that it would resolve itself.

 

* * *

 

“No, no, that’s not the answer,” Michael muttered to himself as he struggled through a particularly difficult problem on his math homework. “Dumb, dumb Michael.”

He was distracted by the sound of splashing outside and looked out the window. Lindsay was still down below, swimming furiously across the pool. She must have been out there for an hour. He set his pencil down and got up and went downstairs. He stepped outside and walked to the edge of the pool. The smell of chlorine mixed with the warm night air. He waited for her to reach the end and turn around.

“Oh, hi,” she said when she saw him. She stopped and held onto the edge of the pool, breathing heavily. The orange glow of the porch light reflected on her wet skin and the water around her.

“Hi,” he said. “How long have you been out here?”

“I don’t know,” she said breathlessly. “A while.”

“Yeah. Don’t you think that’s enough for tonight?”

“Uh, no, I’m not done yet.”

“Come on, Linds, it’s unhealthy.”

“It’s swimming, it’s not unhealthy,” she laughed.

“It is when you do it for hours every night and don’t eat anything!” he said in frustration. The smile slid from her face.

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly. “Anything else?”

He stared at her, taken aback by her indifference. “Uh, no, I guess not,” he said.

“Okay, then,” she said, and dove back under the water and continued swimming across the pool. He stood there for a moment, but he didn’t know what else he could do so he turned away and went back inside.


	11. Part 1, Chapter 9

**June, 1986**

[“I](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJ0eob8S-FQ) mean, I don’t really care,” Lindsay said to Michael as she drove home from school, the Psychedelic Furs playing on the radio. She had just lost the school election to Sally Sitwell. “I’m just surprised that she got more votes than me.”

“Sorry, Lindsay,” Michael said. “I thought you would win, too.”

Lindsay smiled. She liked this new Michael. A few months ago he wouldn’t have tried to comfort her, but things had really changed since then. It made her feel especially guilty for not being among the two percent that had voted for him for student body president a year earlier, but he didn’t know that.

“I would be fine with losing,” she continued. “I just wish it wasn’t to her. Those goddamn posters.” Sally had won the election by putting up posters that said, ‘I won’t leave for two months and come back with a new nose like Lindsay did.’

“Yeah, those were over the line,” Michael agreed. “But, to be fair, so were yours. I mean, ‘Sally Sitwell’s not even that hot?’”

Lindsay rolled her eyes. “You just think she is.”

“Well…”

“Shut up,” she laughed. She glanced over at him. “Hotter than me?”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “Uh…I’m not going to answer that question.”

“Oh. Right,” Lindsay laughed, feeling a little embarrassed. “Anyway…”

“Yeah,” Michael said, laughing uncomfortably.

“I don’t know why you like her so much,” Lindsay continued, trying to gloss over the awkwardness. “I just can’t stand her. Fat bitch.”

“Whoa.”

“Sorry. I just…really don’t like her.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he laughed. He hesitated. “She’s not fat, Lindsay.”

“I get it, you like her,” she groaned.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He sounded embarrassed. “It’s just that, I’m worried that you think all these people are fat that aren’t.”

“Oh,” she said.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, actually,” he said quickly. “I’ve noticed that you’ve lost a lot of weight lately, and I’m kind of worried about you.”

“What?” Lindsay said, laughing forcedly as her heart beat faster. “There’s no reason to worry about me.”

“It’s just, you’ve been eating almost nothing, and you’ve been swimming all the time—”

“I’m on a diet,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “It’s not a big deal.”

“But you really don’t need a diet, you’re already so thin.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean, you’re too thin. It’s not healthy.”

“Try telling that to Mom,” she laughed.

“Don’t listen to her,” he said seriously. “I don’t know what her problem is, but none of what she says is true, not even close.”

“Thanks,” she said. She loved it when he said things like this. “But you don’t need to worry about me, really.”

“It would be totally understandable, with all the horrible things she says to you—”

“Michael, I’m fine,” she interrupted. “Seriously. Just please drop it.”

Michael hesitated. “Okay,” he sighed. There was a long silence. “It’s just, I care about you, Linds.”

Lindsay smiled, trying to hide the emotion that suddenly engulfed her. “I know,” she said. “But you’re just imagining that there’s this problem when there isn’t, really.”

“Okay,” he said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She wished she’d been more discreet about her dieting. But part of her was glad that he’d noticed. She loved it when he worried about her. It made her feel loved, and she was feeling very unloved at the moment. No one else in her family had noticed her sudden weight loss. She had hoped that her mother would see what she’d done to her and feel guilty, but she actually continued to make nasty comments about her weight, completely oblivious to the effort Lindsay was putting in to lose it. She’d thought that at least her father would notice. He’d never been very involved in any of his children’s lives, but he’d always seemed to like her the best. But he hadn’t noticed, either.

Not that she was doing this for attention. She tried not to let her mother’s criticisms bother her, but it was hard not to when she agreed with her. She knew she wasn’t overweight, but she wasn’t as thin as she would like to be, either. She couldn’t stop looking at her thighs in the mirror and wishing they were as thin as some of the girls’ at school, including Andrew’s new girlfriend. She’d tried dieting in the past but she’d never been able to stick with it for more than a few weeks. That was another thing that had been weighing on her. Her inability to stick with anything had always bothered Michael more than it bothered her, but now it was finally sinking in that she should be starting her senior year of high school in September. Instead she would have to watch her twin brother go off to college in a year while she would be still be stuck at home, all because she’d been too lazy to go to summer school after she failed ninth grade. As she berated herself for this she’d realized she couldn’t think of a single thing she’d accomplished that she’d been proud of.

But this would be different. She was done hating her body, not when she could do something about it. She knew there was something perverse about making this her one accomplishment, but for some reason she liked that idea. She soon found that she liked dieting now that she was so determined. It was exciting to see her weight steadily fall, though she always wished it would fall faster. She knew that what she was doing was unhealthy. She often felt tired and light-headed, and she’d even passed out once. Luckily she’d been alone in her room at the time so no one knew. But it actually made her feel better. She liked the idea that she was going to extremes to fix this problem that had tortured her for years, and she felt a savage pleasure as she wallowed in self-pity, telling herself that her own mother had driven her to an eating disorder. And eventually her mother would have to notice and then she would feel guilty.

She had to convince Michael to leave this alone. As much as she loved it when he worried about her, she couldn’t have him trying to stop her, not when she finally felt like she had some control over her life.


	12. Part 1, Chapter 10

**July, 1986**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8v0JVJOA2Q) looked up from his homework at the clock again. 9:13. He could get everyone together now. She might get back from the gym earlier than usual. But they might leave if he made them wait too long. He couldn’t remember her ever getting back before 9:30, but she’d only started going to the gym instead of swimming at home about three weeks ago, mostly likely to avoid him. And he hadn’t been paying attention to when she got home until the day before, when he’d decided to stage an intervention.

Until now he’d been reluctant to involve his family in this, fearing that they would only make things worse, but he was feeling desperate. A week after their conversation in the car he’d tried to confront her again about her weight loss. He’d even gone to library in preparation and read all about how to talk with a friend with anorexia, but despite the care he’d taken to get rid of distractions and avoid “you”-statements, his attempt to convince her to see a therapist had failed miserably. Now every time he tried to get her to eat something she frostily told him yet again that she was fine, made some excuse to leave the room, and spent the rest of the day avoiding him. She’d been avoiding him all the time, actually. He was sad that the closeness they’d had over the last few months had been so short-lived, but he had to do something. She’d gotten even skinnier in the last month and it was starting to scare him. He hoped that seeing that everyone was worried about her would help, as he was starting to suspect she was partly doing this for attention. He hoped she wouldn’t do that, but with Lindsay it wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility. If she was, it wasn’t working. Everyone had been surprised when he told them about her recent weight loss, something that made him more angry than surprised. But with varying amounts of convincing he’d gotten all of them to agree to participate in the intervention.

He looked up again and saw that it was 9:20. He got up and went to his parents’ room and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Next he went to find Gob, who was home from college for the summer. He knocked on his door, but again there was no answer. He went downstairs to the basement where he found his parents watching TV.

“Hey, it’s time to get everyone together,” he said.

“For what?” George Sr. said.

“Lindsay’s intervention,” he said.

“Is that today?” Lucille asked.

“Yes, it’s today,” he said disbelievingly. “I told you yesterday…Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Can you go wait in the living room?”

“Alright,” Lucille sighed. George Sr. mumbled his agreement.

“Thanks,” Michael said, though he wasn’t feeling particularly grateful. “Do you know where Gob is?”

“No,” George Sr. said unhelpfully.

“Me, neither,” said Lucille. “Oh, wait, I think he said he was going to some magic thing.”

“Seriously?” Michael said. “Did he say when he was going to be back?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Lucille said nonchalantly.

Michael sighed in frustration. “Okay, well, we’ll just have to do it without him. Just, go wait in the living room while I get Buster.”

He ran up the stairs. “Buster?” he called. Buster came out of his room.

“Hey, brother,” he said. “Is it time for the intervention?”

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, thank you,” he said gratefully. “You’re the only one who remembered. We’re all going to wait in the living room.”

They went downstairs. Buster went to the couch and sat between his parents. Michael pushed a chair closer to the couches so that it was facing them and sat down in another chair.

“Okay, so when she gets back, I was thinking we could each take turns saying something to her, so please think about what you’re going to say right now.”

“Wait, we have to say something?” said George Sr.

“Yes, you have to say something,” Michael said, feeling increasingly frustrated.

“Michael, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” Buster said nervously.

“All you have to do is tell her that you’re worried about her,” Michael said. “That’s the whole point of this, ‘cause she won’t listen to me. It’s not that much to ask, guys.”

“Alright, alright,” Lucille said, rolling her eyes. Michael clenched his teeth. He glanced at the clock on the wall. 9:31. She should be there soon.

“How long are we going to have to wait, Michael?” Lucille asked.

“Not long, just please be patient,” he snapped. “This is a good opportunity to plan what you’re going to say. I really want this to work, so please just try to act like you care about her.”

Lucille raised her eyebrows, but he was past caring. This whole thing was her fault anyway. He looked up at the clock again. It was 9:33. He hoped she would get home soon, before any of them decided to leave.

“Can we at least get something to read?” said Lucille.

“No, that will make it look like you don’t want to be here. Just wait, plan what you’re going to say.”

Two minutes passed in frosty silence.

“Really, Michael,” George Sr. said.

“Fine, you can get something to read!” Michael snapped. “Just make sure you hide it when she gets here.”

But before they could get up, the front door opened and Lindsay walked into the room. She stopped when she saw them all sitting there.

“What’s going on?”

“Can you sit down?” Michael said.

“What is this?” she said suspiciously.

“Well, we’ve all come together because we’re concerned about you—”

“Oh no,” she said. “Is this some kind of intervention or something?”

“No,” Michael said quickly. “I mean, kind of, but—”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, turning to leave.

“No, wait, please,” he said. She stopped. “Just please sit down and listen to what we’ve got to say.”

She hesitated, then turned around and sat down huffily in the chair Michael had set up for her.

“Thank you,” he said, relieved. “So, as I was saying, we’ve all come together because—”

“Where’s Gob?” she interrupted.

Michael’s heart sank. “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t think I was very clear about when we were going to do this.” In reality he’d been very clear, but he didn’t want her to know that Gob had forgotten. “But he’s worried about you, too, he probably didn’t realize—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted. She looked slightly amused. “Go on.”

“Okay,” he said gratefully. “Well, we’ve all noticed that you’ve lost a lot of weight lately, and we’re concerned because we love you and we want you to be healthy. So, we’re each going to say a few things. Dad, do you want to go first?” he asked, thinking his father would be the most likely to get through to her since she seemed to be the only one of his children that he liked.

“Oh, uh, okay,” George Sr. said uncomfortably. “Well, like Michael said, we’re all concerned about you and…and we want you to be healthy, so…just make sure you eat enough.”

“But, we know it might not be easy,” Michael said quickly. That was one of the things the book he’d read had advised against saying. “I think it would be good if you talked to a therapist. I can make the appointment for you and go with you if you want. Or, I’m sure everyone else would be happy to go with you, too, if you want. Right?” he said, looking around at his family. They all mumbled their agreement. “Yeah,” Michael said, annoyed by this unconvincing display.

“This is ridiculous,” Lindsay said. “I’m fine, I’ve told you so many times.”

“Please, just wait,” he said.

“Fine,” she sighed.

“Thanks. Okay, uh, Buster, do you want to go next?” he said, nervous about getting around to his mother. He’d been uncertain about including her in this, but it would have been even worse if she wasn’t there.

“Oh, okay,” Buster said nervously. He turned to Lindsay. “I’m worried about you,” he said loudly. Michael waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be done.

“Anything else?” he prompted.

“You said that was all I had to say,” Buster said, breathing quickly and tugging at his collar, sure signs that one of his panic attacks was coming on.

“Michael, you’re making him nervous!” Lucille said shrilly.

“Okay, fine!” he snapped. “Fine. Mom, you go next.”

“Alright,” she said. “Well, Lindsay, Michael’s really worried about you.”

“But…you’re not,” Lindsay said slowly.

“Well, I haven’t noticed any weight loss—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Michael interrupted. This was not going according to plan. He glared at his mother and turned to Lindsay. “Look,  _I’m_  really worried about you. It scares me to death to see you getting so skinny. I know you don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about, but sometimes it can be hard to recognize when you need help, especially with this kind of thing. I don’t want to scare you, but there are serious problems that can come from not eating like this, like heart failure, kidney failure, osteoporosis—”

“Michael, really,” Lindsay said.

“Please let me finish. You mean so much to me. To all of us. So, even if you don’t think you need to, please just try talking to a therapist, at least once, for my sake.”

He searched her face for some sign that he’d gotten through to her. She did look guilty. “Michael, I know you’re worried about me,” she said, looking down at the floor. “But really, I don’t need to see a therapist.” She laughed forcedly.

“Please, just once,” he pleaded.

“Sorry, but you’re just imagining this whole thing,” she laughed.

“I think she’s right, Michael,” Lucille said gently.

“No, I know I’m not imagining this!” he said desperately.

“I’m going to go,” Lindsay said guiltily. Michael looked at her, trying to think of something he could say to change her mind, but he was out of ideas.

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed.

“Okay,” she said quietly, and got up and left the room.

“Can we go now?” Lucille said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said exasperatedly. As they got up and left he heard the door in the kitchen open. He went into the kitchen and found his older brother taking mustard and parmesan cheese out of the fridge.

“Where the fuck were you?” he said as Gob squirted the mustard onto a plate and poured parmesan cheese on top of it.

“What are you talking about?” he said.

“Lindsay’s intervention, where were you?”

He shrugged and ate the mustard and parmesan with a spoon. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it,” he said.


	13. Part 1, Chapter 11

**August, 1986**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOk5OFXHD5E) sat slumped in her bed, flipping through the pages of the new issue of Seventeen Magazine, but she couldn’t focus on anything long enough to see if it was worth reading. She closed the magazine and looked at her alarm clock. It was only just past eight. It was too early to go to sleep, but she just wanted this day to be over. She hadn’t left the house all day, not even to go to the gym. She’d meant to, but she’d been too tired to do anything. It was the first time she’d skipped exercising since she’d started this diet three months ago. She’d eaten even less than usual to make up for it, but the hunger pangs just put her in an even worse mood and it wasn’t enough to get rid of the guilt. She looked at the clock again. There was still time to go swimming, but she didn’t want to get out of bed, she was so tired. Tomorrow would be different, she’d get out of the house and do something and she’d exercise extra long to make up for today, but right now she just had to sleep.

As she got up to get ready for bed she heard a knock on her door.

“Come in,” she said.

Michael came into her room, carrying a plate of food.

“Hey, I noticed you didn’t get any dinner, so I brought you some,” he said hopefully.

Lindsay closed her eyes. She couldn’t deal with this right now. “I don’t want any,” she said.

“Are you sure?” he pressed on, ignoring her steely expression. “Rosa made enchiladas, they’re really good.”

“I already got some,” she lied. Their family rarely ate dinner together. Usually their housekeeper cooked something for them and they each got some whenever they felt like it, which had made it much easier for Lindsay to hide how little she was eating.

“No, you didn’t,” he said.

“How do you know?” she said angrily.

“Because you’ve barely left your room all day!”

“Well, I did earlier, when I got some dinner,” she said icily.

“I didn’t see you.”

“Have you been waiting in the kitchen all night?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then I must have gone down when you weren’t there,” she said simply. He sighed in frustration.

“Do you realize how dangerous this is?” he said.

“Not this again,” she groaned.

“I don’t know what to do, I just keep waiting for you to stop but you keep getting thinner—”

“Oh my god, do you realize how annoying you’re being?!”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“How many times do I have to tell you,  _I don’t need your help_ , I’m  _fine_.”

“If you’re fine, then why won’t you see a doctor?”

“Because there’s no need to!”

“You know that’s not true.”

She buried her face in her hands. “Can you please just go away? I’m tired,” she sighed.

“Yeah, wonder why,” he said sarcastically. She glared at him.

“Shut up. You don’t know how I feel.”

He stared at her, taken aback. “I’m trying to understand, I really am,” he said earnestly. She closed her eyes.

“If you want to help me, then leave me alone, just be  _nice_  to me and stop bothering me about this!” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

“So you can keep starving yourself?!”

“Oh my god, just  _go away_!”

“Okay, fine!” he said, and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Lindsay lay on her bed, listening to the Smiths on her Walkman and staring up at the ceiling. She wanted to go to sleep, her head was aching, but she didn’t want to leave her room and risk running into Michael. But only extreme circumstances could cause her to skip her nightly skin care routine, so she would just have to wait until she heard him either go downstairs or go to sleep.

She froze as she heard a knock on her door. She didn’t say anything.

“Lindsay?” Michael said. She hesitated, then sighed.

“Come in,” she groaned. She glanced up at him as he came into her room, then looked back up at the ceiling. He sat at the foot of her bed.

“Sorry about earlier,” she heard him say over the music. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad.”

She hesitated, then took off her headphones and sat up. As she did, she felt a wave of dizziness. She blinked and waited for it to pass. It did, but she still felt a little lightheaded. That had been happening a lot lately.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he said desperately. “I don’t want you to be mad at me, or to avoid me, but I can’t just do nothing. I don’t think you realize how dangerous what you’re doing is.”

She opened her mouth to make some retort, but then closed it. As annoying as he was being, it was hard to be mad at him when he looked so desperate to help her. She remembered the list of potential health problems he’d thrown at her during the intervention. But it wasn’t that serious, she hadn’t lost that much weight. She sighed and swung her legs off the bed and scooted over to sit next to him. “I think you’re overreacting,” she said.

“I am not overreacting.”

“Well, no one else seems to think anything’s wrong, you’re the only one—”

Her voice caught as she thought about how little attention everyone else in the family had paid her. Michael had tried several times to convince their parents to make her see a doctor, but their mother maintained that she hadn’t noticed any weight loss and their father had been gone for the last two weeks on a ‘business trip,’ though she suspected he was really off screwing his secretary. She was glad that Michael hadn’t had any success in convincing them, of course, but she couldn’t help but feel hurt that they seemed to care so little about her. She realized with a dull aching that Michael was the only one who had paid any attention to her, and she’d been pushing him away.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, looking down at the floor. “It’s just…I’m sorry.” She swallowed as a lump rose in her throat and her eyes filled with tears.

“If you talked to a therapist, they might be able to help—”

“Can we please just not talk about that right now?” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “Just for one second can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah, okay,” he said. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She felt another wave of dizziness, worse than the last, along with that shaky, clammy feeling that had become familiar to her.

“I, uh…I’m kinda tired, I think I’m gonna go to sleep now,” she said, struggling to find the words as the room started spinning.

“Oh. Okay,” he said, seeming a little hurt. He got up to leave.

“No, wait,” she said guiltily. “You can stay, it’s okay.”

“It’s okay, if you want to sleep—”

“No, really,” she insisted, grabbing his arm. “Please stay.”

The surprise in his face told her that was a weird thing to say, but her thoughts were too clouded to remember why. She just didn’t want him to think she was mad at him.

“Okay,” he said, and sat back down.

“Let’s just talk,” she said, relieved to feel at least some of the dizziness passing. She could do this, she just needed to focus.

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to search her foggy brain for something. There wasn’t much to talk about, she’d been sitting alone in her room all summer. “We could talk about  _Dallas_ ,” she suggested, remembering how much fun they’d had watching it together last spring. “The new season’s starting next month. We can finally see how Bobby’s still alive.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “They’d better have a good explanation.”

“I read that there are three possible answers, and they taped all three just so the cast and everyone else wouldn’t know which was the right one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it cost them like, thousands of dollars.”

“Wow. Did it say what the answers were?”

“Yeah,” she said, struggling to remember the article. “One of them was that it was all a dream, which would be terrible.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said when I read it.”

“You mean him dying was a dream?”

“Not just that, the entire season.”

“Ugh,” he said indignantly. “That is terrible!”

“I know, right?” she laughed. It surprised her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. She felt a sudden urge to hug him, or something, she was just so grateful to him for distracting her from her misery, but she couldn’t do that, it would be too weird. The dizziness returned again. No, no, she couldn’t pass out in front of Michael.

“What were the other two?” he asked.

“Um…one of them was…I think someone, uh…it was an imposter, he got plastic surgery to look like him so he could steal his money or something,” she said, swaying slightly and gripping her bedspread as if that would help.

“That’s even worse!” he laughed, apparently not noticing the difficulty she was having concentrating.

“Better than the dream one,” she said confusedly.

“No, even that would be better, at least it would make sense.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she agreed, just so she could stop talking. It was taking all her concentration to keep him from noticing how disoriented she was.

“What was the third one?” he asked.

“Um…” she said, distracted by the spots appearing in her vision and the ringing in her ears. “I don’t remember.” She shouldn’t have asked him to stay, she should tell him to leave now, but she didn’t want to, she didn’t want him to go. “Sorry…sorry I got mad earlier,” she said instead.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

“I miss you,” she said, suddenly needing him to understand. “I just…wanna be alone most of the time right now. It’s not because I’m mad or something.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it should be, she had no reason to be angry when he was only trying to help her.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Just know that I’m here if you need me.”

“I know,” she said, her heart breaking as she thought about how she’d been treating him, how she’d always treated him, when he was the only one who cared.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she shouldn’t as she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder, but she couldn’t remember why, and he was so warm and familiar and good. She felt him tense slightly, surprised. She wished he wouldn’t, why did he have to make this awkward, when she just wanted to be close to him? But then he was shifting underneath her, and then his arm was around her, and she was wrapping her arms around him and breathing in the warm, clean smell of his shirt, but it wasn’t enough, she couldn’t get close enough to stop this terrible, empty longing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the room spun around her. “You’ve been so…nice and…I dunno.”

“Are you okay?” she heard him say, but his voice was so far away.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Don’t…don’t worry…”

It felt like she was falling, falling backwards down a long black tunnel, and she was vaguely aware of him moving underneath her and saying her name, but she couldn’t anymore, she couldn’t keep it from slipping away…


	14. Part 1, Chapter 12

**September, 1986**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QAofIG6pVEM) looked out the kitchen window at the gray morning clouds rolling in off the ocean as he waited for Lindsay to come downstairs. It had been almost a month since she’d passed out. He’d panicked and called 9-1-1, which she’d been very angry at him for doing when she woke up shortly after the EMTs arrived. Even worse than the terror of not being able to wake her up was how little she seemed to care afterwards. He remembered the look on her face when she was eating the candy the EMTs had given her to raise her blood sugar, like it was torture. He couldn’t understand how she could care more about that than the fact that she’d passed out. She’d never exactly been a reasonable person, but it was still shocking after spending his whole life with her to see her thinking so irrationally.

To his immense relief, the EMTs had convinced their mother to make Lindsay see a doctor the next day. Physical examinations showed that her body weight was only 85% of what it should be and her bone density was abnormally low, and after interviews with her and the family she was diagnosed with anorexia. This finally convinced their parents that she needed help, and when their father returned from his business trip they put her in an intensive outpatient treatment program, which meant that she was now spending four hours a day, four days a week in therapy and nutritionist sessions.

Surprisingly, besides complaining about the amount of time she had to spend there, Lindsay was initially fairly cooperative. But after about two weeks Michael realized she was secretly skipping meals and appointments whenever she could get away with it. Since then he’d taken a much more active role in making sure she ate three meals a day and didn’t exercise compulsively. Unfortunately this had put a strain on their already rocky relationship. They were now constantly arguing and she was avoiding him more than ever. He tried not to let it bother him since he knew she was struggling, but it was hard not to feel hurt and somewhat unappreciated. She hadn’t once thanked him for doing most of her homework for her so she would have time for treatment, which was particularly difficult since it was on top of the five AP classes he was taking, not to mention college applications.

He wasn’t getting any appreciation or support from his parents, either. His father was genuinely trying to help, but he seemed to want to solve the problem by throwing money at it and leaving Michael to do the rest. But he had been helpful in paying for the most expensive treatment facility in the O.C., and having J. Walter Weatherman jump in front of Lindsay’s car when she tried to go to the beach instead of therapy. His mother wasn’t doing anything to help, but she had at least stopped talking about Lindsay’s weight, which was probably doing more good than anything else.

Michael looked up as Lindsay came down the stairs, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she walked. Lately she’d abandoned her usual elaborate hairstyles for less work-intensive alternatives, though she was still wearing a Swatch watch as a hair band. She looked like she was in a particularly bad mood this morning.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Michael asked her as she walked into the kitchen.

“Yes,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“When? I didn’t see you.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, pushing past him to get to the door. She opened it and stepped outside into the cloudy morning. “Let’s go,” she said when he didn’t move.

“Come on, you’ve got to eat something.”

“I told you, I did,” she said through clenched teeth.

“No, you didn’t!”

“Why do you have to be so damn controlling?!”

“I’m not trying to be controlling,” he said, taken aback. “I just—I want you to get better, I care about you.”

“Oh, please,” she said poisonously. “You’re not doing this for me, you just like to think you’re saving me because it makes you feel good about yourself, it’s pathetic.”

Michael blinked. “That’s not true,” he said, a little stunned. “Jesus, Linds, that’s not true at all.”

“Whatever,” she sighed, and set off down the pathway. She stopped at the gate and turned around. “Come on,” she said impatiently. He hesitated, then followed her down the pathway and through the gate into the driveway. As they wordlessly got into the car he realized she still hadn’t eaten breakfast, but he decided it was probably best to just let this one go.

He turned over what she’d said as she backed out of the driveway and drove up the winding road. Things had gotten pretty bad between them but she’d never said something like this. It was hard not to feel angry at her, after everything he’d done for her. He hoped she didn’t actually think that and that she was just trying to distract him so she could get away with skipping breakfast.

He looked over at her. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the road in front of them, her expression stony. He thought he saw her eyes flicker over to him for a second, but then she was determinedly staring ahead once again.


	15. Part 1, Chapter 13

**September, 1986**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4dhOsWY-Ng0) sat on the couch in the basement, flipping through channels on the TV, but it was difficult to pay attention knowing that her father was upstairs on the phone with her therapist. She’d fainted in school that day. Michael had been gone on a debate trip over the weekend and she only had therapy with its group dinners Monday through Thursday, so she’d used the opportunity to cut her food intake way down, lower than she’d ever done. The result was that she’d fainted in English class when she returned to school on Monday. Carolyn, her therapist, had asked her a lot of questions about it that evening. She’d tried her best to cover up how little she’d eaten, but she doubted she believed her, especially since she suspected Michael was telling her how uncooperative she’d been during her weekly meetings with the family.

The most frustrating part was that she really had tried to stop at first. She’d been determined to prove that she didn’t need treatment and to have her evenings free again, but after about a week off her diet she realized it wouldn’t be as easy as she’d thought. She missed the feeling of control her food and exercise regimen had given her, and she was terrified of gaining back the weight she’d worked so hard to lose. It started with occasionally skipping a meal when she could easily get away with it and quickly turned into going out of her way to avoid eating without getting caught and giving up entirely on recovery. It scared her a little that she didn’t have as much control over this as she’d thought, but she tried not to think about it. She just wanted to stop feeling so miserable all the time and dieting was the only thing that helped.

She hadn’t intended to skip her appointments since that was less easy to hide, as they always called her parents when she did. She just didn’t have the energy sometimes. At first she’d kind of liked therapy, though she pretended she didn’t. She liked telling her therapist all the horrible things her mother had said to her and seeing the genuine shock in her face. Even better was knowing that she was likely talking to her mother about it in her meetings with her. But once she started skipping meals it became exhausting to lie for four hours straight four days a week about how she was trying to recover and she didn’t know why she’d stopped gaining weight. But now she was too traumatized by J. Walter Weatherman jumping in front of her car to try that again, so she was stuck. She wished they could see that the appointments were making her feel worse, not better.

She heard someone coming down the stairs and turned to see Michael.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” he asked. He looked nervous.

“Yeah,” she said apprehensively. She turned off the TV. He sat down next to her.

“So, Dad wanted me to tell you, they’re thinking about putting you in partial hospitalization,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“What? What does that mean?”

“It’s, uh, it’s every day for eleven hours. You’ll still come home at night—”

“That’s insane,” she said frantically. “I can’t—what about school?”

“They have classes there that you’ll take instead. I know it sounds bad, but it’s usually only two or three weeks.”

“You can’t make me do this.”

“It’s not my decision!”

“Well, then, talk to Mom and Dad, they’ll listen to you,” she said desperately.

“I don’t know, Linds, maybe this is what you need! I mean, you’re on your own for one weekend and this happens.”

“It won’t happen again, I promise,” she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. Good, that would convince him. She blinked so that they spilled over and ran down her face. “Just please, please talk to them.”

“Okay,” he said frantically. “Well, I don’t know, I think you need this.”

“I don’t, really, I’ll stop.”

“You said that last time and you didn’t even try!”

“I did try, okay?!” she said, her voice rising in frustration. “It’s just, it’s hard, you don’t understand. Just please talk to them, I promise I’ll stop.”

She watched the emotions play across his face, desperately hoping she’d convinced him.

“Okay,” he sighed. “But if this happens again—”

“It won’t, really,” she interrupted. He looked at her tear-streaked face, clearly not sure if he should believe her

“You were trying before?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

“Why did you stop?” She looked at him disbelievingly. “You said I didn’t understand, I want to understand!”

She shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just don’t want to gain back the weight, I guess.” She hated how ridiculous it sounded. That wasn’t why, at least it wasn’t the only reason, but she couldn’t explain why she couldn’t stop, it didn’t even fully make sense to her. “They want me to go past what I weighed before, it’s ridiculous,” she said instead.

“That’s only because you were underweight before. They just want you to get up to a healthy weight, that’s all. Are you worried about Mom?” he said when her eyes filled with tears again. “‘Cause she’s not going to say stuff like that anymore, Carolyn talked to her about it. Hey, it’s okay,” he said as a sob escaped her throat. She wiped at her eyes, but it was no use, she couldn’t keep from crying anymore. He hesitated, then awkwardly wrapped his arm around her. She leaned against him, not caring anymore, it just felt so good to be close to him. “Look, you’re really pretty,” he said, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

“Do you really think that?” she choked. She knew how he would answer, but she couldn’t help it, she wanted to hear him say it again.

“ _Yes_ ,” he laughed. “Everyone does, it’s an objective fact.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly. He still didn’t understand, it wasn’t really about that, but it did make her feel better. It was ridiculous how much she needed this.

“I’m really fucked up, aren’t I?” she said.

“No,” he said. She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. He laughed. “Well, maybe a little, but we all are. We’re just a fucked up family.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “At least we have each other.”

“Yeah, we do.”

She smiled and closed her eyes. This was getting a little weird, she shouldn’t say things like that when her head was on his chest and his arm was around her and he’d just finished telling her how pretty she was. But she didn’t want to think about that right now, she was just so glad that he was here.

“I really will try to get better,” she said. She didn’t know if she would feel the same way in the morning, but at that moment she meant it. She wanted to show him that he wasn’t wrong to trust her.

She jumped slightly when she heard someone coming down the stairs and pulled away from him. He quickly moved his arm and scooted away from her, and they sat in uncomfortable silence as their mother came into the room.


	16. Part 1, Chapter 14

**November, 1986**

[“So](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0Y6UJ6AGmM) how is your sophomore year starting out?” Michael asked his older brother, who was home for Thanksgiving. The family had just finished watching _Boyfights: The Trip to Disneyland_  after dinner, which Michael had skipped in protest.

“Great,” Gob said, leaning back against the couch. “I’ve been getting really into this magic thing. I’m trying to get Alliance-approved.”

“Alliance-approved?” Michael repeated.

“The Magician’s Alliance,” Gob said, clearly offended. “I told you about it last week on the phone.”

“Oh, right, the Magician’s Alliance,” Michael said quickly. “Of course I remember. What does it mean to be Alliance-approved?”

“Well,” Gob said eagerly. “The point of the Magician’s Alliance is to make sure that no one reveals a magician’s secrets. It’s kind of an essential part of being a magician, I mean, if people went around spilling our secrets, where would we be?”

Lindsay smirked from over on the other couch, where she was lying reading a fashion magazine. Michael frowned. She wasn’t supposed to read those, as her therapist thought it might contribute to her body image issues. But she had been doing a lot better lately and she seemed to be in a bad mood at the moment, so he decided not to mention it.

“What?” Gob said.

“Nothing,” Lindsay said nonchalantly, not looking up from her magazine.

“Well, we’ll see who’s laughing when my career catches  _FIRE!”_ Gob shouted with a flourish of his hands. Liquid squirted out of his sleeves onto Lindsay’s sweater.

“What the hell?!” she said angrily, sitting up.

“Oh, that was supposed to be a fireball,” he said. “But still, where did the lighter fluid come from?”

“Damn it, Gob, now I have to go change because of your shit magic trick,” she groaned, getting up and stalking out of the room.

“She’s right,” Gob said dejectedly. “I’m a complete failure.”

“No you’re not,” Michael said. “I’m sure with a little practice that will be really cool. You probably shouldn’t do it inside, though…”

“You really think it will be good?” Gob said, tearing up a little.

“Yeah, it’s a really great trick.”

“Illusion. And thank you. You’re a good brother, Mikey,” he said, hugging him a little too tightly.

“Okay, Gob,” Michael laughed nervously, trying to pull away, but Gob wouldn’t let him.

“Pie is ready!” Rosa called from the kitchen.

“Oh, listen to that, we’d better go,” he said quickly, finally managing to extricate himself from Gob’s hug. He quickly went to the kitchen. He’d been a little uncomfortable around his older brother ever since he’d found a picture of himself under Gob’s pillow two days earlier when his mother asked him to make his bed to prepare for his arrival.

The family filtered into the kitchen. Lindsay came downstairs wearing a new shirt and a sour expression on her face. She stood next to Michael as they waited for Buster to cut himself a slice of pumpkin pie.

“Careful with that knife, Buster, you’re going to cut off your hand!” Lucille said shrilly, taking the knife from him and cutting the slice herself.

“So nice to have the whole family together, isn’t it?” Michael said to Lindsay under his breath. She laughed. He smiled to himself. They’d been getting along much better since she started cooperating with her treatment. Her recovery hadn’t been completely even, but she had gained back most of the weight and was only going to therapy twice a week now.

Once Lucille finished serving Buster, Lindsay went and cut a slice of pie for herself and put it on her plate. Lucille smirked.

“Well, it looks like we’ve got the old Lindsay back,” she said. “Make sure to leave some for the rest of us, dear.”

Lindsay froze.

“Mom!” Michael said angrily. Lindsay set her plate down on the counter and stormed out of the room.

“Well, there’s no need to be dramatic!” Lucille called after her. Michael glared at her and followed Lindsay out of the kitchen. He heard a door slam as he climbed up the stairs. He went to her room and knocked.

“Lindsay, it’s me,” he said, but she didn’t answer. He waited for a moment, then decided he should probably leave her alone and went back downstairs.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9S24hgiisQY) looked in the bathroom mirror as she dabbed makeup remover onto the black circles of mascara under her red puffy eyes. Not an attractive look.

 _Well, it looks like we’ve got the old Lindsay back._  She clenched her teeth at the memory. What did she have to do to make her stop?! She’d thought it was over, her mother hadn’t said anything like that since the hospital visit in August, but now that she was gaining back the weight it was going to start all over again. Her eyes filled with tears of anger and self-pity and shame, because she couldn’t help it, she was embarrassed that she’d taken such a big slice of pie, and how pathetic was that? She swallowed and wiped her eyes. She didn’t want to cry anymore, she’d spent the last half hour doing that. She just wanted to sleep.

She pulled a hand towel from the rack, ran water over it, and pressed it to her face. As she spread her Sea Breeze lotion around her face she thought about how she’d felt at dinner earlier. It was stressful eating with the whole family, knowing they’d all be watching to see how much she ate, but she’d tried not to think about it and got a little of everything. It was just one meal, it wasn’t going to make her gain weight, and she wasn’t supposed to worry about that anyway. She’d even felt a little proud of herself.

 _Well, it looks like we’ve got the old Lindsay back._  She’d just frozen, trying to come up with something say with everyone watching her, all while trying to wrestle with the shock that her mother would still say something like that after everything that had happened. It was ridiculous, she thought as she undressed, that she could still feel surprised after her mother had proven time and time again that she didn’t give a shit about her daughter. Why did she keep expecting anything else?

She looked at her body in the mirror and suddenly she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. She pulled on her nightgown and sat on the floor and cried. It was so different from how it had been three months ago. Even then she hadn’t been completely happy, but it was better than this. She thought about her stomach, bloated from all the food she’d eaten. What had she been thinking? She felt so sick, she just wanted it out of her, to undo all of it. Before she could change her mind she crawled over to the toilet and shoved her finger into her throat.

She looked at the vomit swirling around in the toilet, her body shaking. She quickly flushed it and leaned back against the wall, disgusted with herself but so wonderfully empty at the same time.

She froze as she heard footsteps outside the door. Had someone heard? She stood up and frantically brushed her teeth. She looked in the mirror. She’d washed off all the makeup but it was still obvious that she’d been crying, her eyes were all red. But it was dark in the hallway, if anyone was out there they wouldn’t be able to see. She took a deep breath and opened the door, praying that no one would be there.

Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw Michael. No, no, not him.

“Lindsay,” he said, and she knew that he’d heard.

“Hey,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual. She walked quickly to her room, looking away so he wouldn’t see her eyes. He followed her into her room.

“I heard that,” he said.

“Heard what?”

“I heard you throwing up in there.”

“Oh yeah, I guess I just got sick or something,” she said, sitting on her bed.

“Come on, I know what happened.”

“I was just sick, I told you.”

“We need to talk about this! If you’re relapsing—”

“I’m not relapsing,” she interrupted.

“Then what was that?”

She cast around desperately for something to say, but she knew it was no use, there was nothing she could say that would make him believe her. She closed her eyes.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” she said quietly.

“Of course I won’t,” he said, sitting next to her on the bed.

“I mean it,” she said. “Not Mom, or Dad, or Carolyn…”

Michael hesitated. “Carolyn should probably know about this.”

“Don’t!” she said frantically.

“I won’t tell her, I just think you probably should,” he said quickly. “She’ll understand, it’s her job.”

“No,” she said firmly. “There’s no need to, it won’t happen again.”

He hesitated. “Alright,” he said uncertainly. They sat in silence for a moment.

“I’ve never done that before,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

“Yeah, I believe you.”

“Okay.”

Without warning a lump rose in her throat and her eyes burned and then she couldn’t keep from crying anymore. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to apologize,” he said, but that just made her cry more. He hesitated, then hugged her. She hugged him back and sobbed, her whole body shaking. She didn’t care anymore, it felt so good to cry in front of him and to feel his arms around her and his hand in her hair.

“Don’t worry, relapse is really common, it doesn’t matter,” he said.

“This wasn’t a relapse, I’ve never done that. It’s worse than before.”

“No, it’s not, look at all the progress you’ve made.”

She laughed bitterly through her tears. “What progress?” she said, pulling away from him. “I feel worse than I ever have, it’s never been so bad.” She didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to say it. “I just feel so miserable all the time, it just doesn’t go away.”

“It will, you’ll get better.”

“I don’t think I will,” she choked. She’d been thinking it for months, that she would never get out of this nightmare, but it was so much more terrifying when she said it aloud.

“You will, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?” she shot back. She wanted to punch him, he looked so sure of himself.

“I’ve read all these stories about people who thought they wouldn’t get better and they did,” he said desperately.

“Well, that’s just great,” she said sarcastically.

“You seem better than you were two months ago, you seem happier,” he said desperately. She gave him a disbelieving look. “Well, not right now, but you have been, you’ve seemed much better lately. Look, this was just a one-time thing, it doesn’t matter. It was just because Mom said that. I’ll talk to her and I’ll tell Carolyn about it and she’ll talk to her, too. Not about this, I’ll just tell her what she said,” he said quickly when her eyes widened. “Only if you want to me to, though.”

She hesitated. “No, I’d rather you didn’t,” she said.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he said. “Just, if there’s anything I can do, just tell me.”

She nodded. She knew he would do anything she asked, but it was hard to feel grateful when he was so infuriatingly certain that he could fix everything.

“Do you want me to go?” he said uncertainly.

She opened her mouth to say yes, but then closed it. Being alone would be even worse.

[“No,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_AOAn5orcY) you can stay,” she said. They sat in silence for a moment. She hesitated, then leaned against him. She was glad he didn’t seem surprised or embarrassed as he wrapped his arm around her. She was so tired of that. Everyone else was asleep now and the only noise was the sound of the ocean coming in through the open window.

“I thought I was getting better,” she said, her voice hollow.

“You are,” he said. “Relapse is a part of recovery.

She laughed, though it sounded more like a sob. “You sound like a brochure,” she said. “Where’d you get that?”

He laughed. “It was in that book the doctor gave Mom and Dad.”

Lindsay smiled to herself. “I bet you read that whole book cover to cover.” He didn’t respond. She looked up and saw that he was trying not to laugh. “Oh my god, you actually did.”

“I also highlighted it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I actually did,” he laughed.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, putting her head back on his chest. “That is just…that is such a Michael thing to do.”

He laughed. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, it just seems like something you would do. It’s a good thing.”

They sat in silence for a moment. She could feel his heart beating under her cheek.

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything you’ve been doing. It’s, um, it’s really nice to know that someone cares about me.”

“We all care about you,” he said. She laughed humorlessly. “Really,” he insisted. “They’re just not very good at showing it.”

“Oh, I think Mom’s done a pretty good job at showing how she feels about me.”

“Yeah, well, Mom’s insane. You know that.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“She still loves you though, of course she does.”

“Yeah,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she believed him. Her eyes filled with tears again as the full force of how much she needed him crashed over her.

“I love you,” she said. She didn’t look up at him, feeling a little embarrassed, but she was glad she’d said it.

“I love you, too,” he laughed, sounding a little surprised, but she knew that he meant it. Not just because she was his sister and he felt like he should, he really loved her. She was shallow and lazy and selfish but for some reason he loved her anyway.

She wondered vaguely what time it was. He would probably leave soon, they couldn’t just sit here all night. The realization filled her with a cold dread. She couldn’t bear the thought of being alone again. She looked up at him.

“Michael?” she said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Can you sleep here tonight?”

As soon as she’d said it she wished she hadn’t. His eyes widened.

“I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” she said quickly, sitting up.

“Uh, no, it’s fine.”

“I just don’t want to be alone, I guess, that’s all,” she stammered, her face turning red.

“Yeah, of course,” he said. He smiled reassuringly.

“Okay,” she said, still regretting asking him, but what could she do now? “Um, do you want to go to sleep now?” she said awkwardly.

“Uh, sure.”

“Okay.” She paused, not sure how to do this without looking like an idiot. She swung her legs onto the bed, climbed under the blankets and lay down. He hesitated, looking extremely embarrassed, then climbed under the blankets and lay down next to her. She scooted as close to the edge of the twin bed as she could, but their arms were still touching. “Sorry, there isn’t much room,” she muttered.

“It’s fine,” he laughed embarrassedly. She smiled weakly and propped herself up on her elbow and turned off the lamp. She lay back down next to him, extremely aware of the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her white cotton nightgown. She turned her head and looked at him on the pillow next to her. She could vaguely make out his familiar face in the light that came in from the streetlights outside her window.

“Good night,” she said quietly. He smiled.

“Good night,” he whispered.

She shivered and smiled shyly back at him. They stared at each other for a moment in the darkness, faces inches apart, neither of them daring to breathe. She knew he felt it, too, the connection running between them.

She turned away and looked up at the ceiling, her heart beating fast. This was a bad idea, this was definitely crossing a line. She rolled onto her side so that her back was to him and closed her eyes. She realized her body was tensed and slowly let herself relax. It was okay, they were only sleeping, there wasn’t anything weird about it.

She listened to the sound of him breathing beside her. As awkward as it was, she was glad he was there. It was nice, to feel the warmth of his body next to hers, to know that he would still be there when she woke up in the morning, to know that she wasn’t alone, that she was loved and needed and wanted. It felt like she was falling.

She opened her eyes.  _Don’t,_  she told herself. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes again, though she doubted she would be able to fall asleep anytime soon, not with her heart pounding like this and the thoughts that were spinning through her head.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BucfErwPTWs) sleepily opened his eyes to the pale morning sunlight filtering in through Lindsay’s bedroom window. It took him a second to remember why he was in his sister’s bed. He turned his head to look at her. She was still facing away from him. She hadn’t moved all night. He tried to convince himself that there was no reason to feel the creeping sense of guilt he felt when he saw her sleeping next to him. They hadn’t done anything wrong, she’d been upset and she’d asked him to stay with her, so he had. It wasn’t like he could have said no. And he didn’t want to, he wanted to be there for her when she needed him and to make her feel less alone. They’d slept in the same bed before on family vacations when there was limited space, this wasn’t any different.

And it had been nice, aside from the awkwardness. He’d felt so close to her last night. He wasn’t sure if it would last. Lately it had seemed like the closer they got the further she pushed him away the next day. But maybe it would be different this time. He hoped so. He’d only just realized how much she meant to him. He wished it hadn’t taken a crisis like this to make him see that.

His eyes traveled from her bare shoulders and back under the lacy white straps of her nightgown to the smooth curve of her hips under the pale yellow bedspread. He knew people with her disorder had distorted body images but it was still hard to understand how she couldn’t see what a great body she had. He turned away and looked up at the ceiling. That was probably a weird thing to think, especially in a situation like this. But anyone could see that she had a nice body, he was just noticing it. It wasn’t like he felt anything for her. Of course he didn’t feel anything for her, she was his sister.

“Hey, who took the cap off my fucking Glisten?!” he heard his father say from across the hall. He felt a stab of panic. What if someone came in and saw him there? He didn’t know why anyone would come into Lindsay’s room at this time, but the thought of trying to explain why he was in her bed was enough to make him want to leave as soon as possible. He tried to climb out from under the blankets without waking her up, but it was difficult when they were so close together.

“Mmm,” she murmured, rolling over to face him. Her eyes were still red and puffy from the night before, but she was smiling shyly at him now. “Good morning,” she said, laughing nervously. He laughed, too.

“Good morning,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

She smiled. “Better. Thanks again.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They both looked away from each other. An uncomfortable silence hung between them.

“I’m gonna go now,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay,” she said, sounding relieved.

He got up and quickly crossed the room. He paused for a second when he reached the door, trying to listen for anyone in the hallway. He couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t want Lindsay to notice his hesitation, so he prayed no one was there and opened the door. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he saw that the hallway was empty, quietly closed Lindsay’s door, and hurried to his own room.

It was hard not to feel guilty when he was sneaking around like this, but it was just because it would be hard to explain why he was there without embarrassing Lindsay. And he had to admit it would look weird, even though it wasn’t, and the horror of any of them thinking for even a second that something inappropriate was going on between them was reason enough to keep the fact that he’d spent the night with her a secret. Still, it was hard to shake the feeling that he’d done something wrong.


	17. Part 1, Chapter 15

**December, 1986**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XtRoVofo8A) flipped through the radio stations as she drove to school. The sky was white with morning clouds.

“Whoa, you’re swerving!” Michael said.

“Whoops,” she said, looking back up at the road.

“Here, let me do that,” Michael said, changing the station.

“Hey, go back to that one,” Lindsay said when he passed over Madonna.

“Ugh, really?”

“Yeah, I like that song!”

“Fine.” He changed it back.

“It’s almost over anyway,” she pointed out. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat.  _“True love…”_  she sang. Michael groaned. She laughed and sang louder.  _“You’re the one I’m dreaming of… Your heart fits me like a glove. And I’m gonna be, true blue, baby, I love you, I love you…”_

“Okay, that’s enough,” Michael interrupted. She laughed and punched his arm, causing her to swerve again.

“Careful!” he said.

“Oh, damn,” she said, righting the car.

“I’ll never understand how you got your license.”

“Driving is all about confidence,” she replied.

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

The song ended and “Ghost Dancing” by Simple Minds began.

“Much better,” Michael said.

“Oh yeah!” she said, turning up the volume. Simple Minds was one of the few bands they agreed upon.

She and Michael had become much closer since Thanksgiving. This was mostly because Lindsay’s friendships had all but dissolved in the last few months. She’d been too depressed to socialize since May, and she’d canceled so many plans that her friends just stopped inviting her to things. She hadn’t minded at the time since she didn’t want to go anyway and it saved her from having to lie about what she was doing every evening while she was in treatment. Everyone at school had probably noticed how thin she’d become, but it still wasn’t something she wanted to talk to anyone about. But now that she finally felt up to leaving the house again it was a little lonely. But she was too embarrassed to try to reconnect with her friends after months of barely speaking to them, so she’d been spending all her time with Michael instead. It was a little embarrassing that the only person who wanted to hang out with her was her brother, but she didn’t mind it as much as she’d thought she would. She actually preferred him to her friends, with whom she’d always had a rather competitive relationship. It was so much easier to talk to him, and she loved that he genuinely liked spending time with her. She needed someone like that at the moment.

In fact, she was sure the reason her recovery was going so much better was him. Talking to him was the only thing that could distract her when she was obsessing about her weight. And her weight was taking up a much smaller portion of her thoughts now, anyway. Though she would never admit it, she knew the reason was that she was so excited about this change in their relationship. It was strange to feel this way after spending her whole life with him, but something was different between them, something thrilling and confusing that she tried not to think too hard about. She was just glad that she finally felt happy again.

She was still secretly skipping lunch. She’d been doing this since June, sitting in the car reading magazines while Michael thought she was eating with her friends. Lately she’d been forcing herself to eat something occasionally, but most days she didn’t. It was hard to motivate herself when no one would know either way. She knew she had to start eating with Michael. It would be much too awkward to try to reconnect with her friends after months of barely speaking to them, and she needed someone to keep her on track. She’d been meaning to do this for a while now, but it was difficult to get up the courage since she wouldn’t be able to change her mind afterwards. If she started eating lunch with him regularly he would notice if she started skipping it again. But it would be nice to talk to him in the middle of the day, and she knew she couldn’t say she was recovered until she stopped doing this. She wanted so badly for this chapter of her life to be over. 

“Michael?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Can I eat lunch with you today?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, surprised.

“It’s just, things have been a little awkward with my friends lately,” she explained, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I’m not worried about it,” she said quickly. “I just don’t want to eat by myself.”

“Okay. Well, yeah, that will be fun.”

“Thanks,” she said, feeling a rush of affection for him. She could tell he really meant it, he was actually excited that she wanted to have lunch with him.

“I love this part,” she said, turning the volume up even higher.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed.

 _“The car pulled up, the girl she jumped in,”_  she sang along and bobbed her head to the music, her green lightning-shaped earrings dangling.

“Oh no, not again,” Michael groaned. She laughed and continued.

 _“She said one last kiss while you look across the land_  
_Move me into overdrive, take me by the hand_  
_The car went broke!_  
_The rebels saw smoke!_  
_And they all went to heaven in a stupid fantasy, go!”_

She threw her head back on the last line and laughed.

“Pay attention!” Michael said, though he was laughing, too. Lindsay returned her attention to the road.

 _“Take me away…”_  she continued to sing absentmindedly. She saw him smiling at her out of the corner of her eye and felt a fluttering sensation in her chest.  _Stop it,_  she told herself.


	18. Part 1, Chapter 16

**December, 1986**

[“Linds,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmKTMAak710) you almost ready?” Michael called up the stairs.

“Almost!” she called back. He sighed exasperatedly. They had planned on leaving fifteen minutes ago. It was their eighteenth birthday and Michael was taking her out to dinner in Santa Monica, wanting to something special to celebrate the progress she’d been making in her recovery. She’d always liked romantic things like that.

Lindsay came down the stairs wearing deep red lipstick and the new red floral dress and leather jacket she’d gotten when their mother had taken her shopping earlier that day. Her hair was curled and tied up with a black cloth headband. She looked like Madonna.

“You look nice,” he said.

She blushed, making her look even prettier. He felt his own face grow warm with embarrassment. He didn’t know why, he’d said similar things before.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling shyly.

“Okay, we’d better go,” he said.

“I know, I know,” she sighed, following him out the door into the cool wet evening. The sky was deep blue with clouds.

“So where are we going?” Lindsay asked as they walked to the car.

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

“Ugh, fine. You do know it’s your birthday, too, right?”

“Yeah, I know. This will be fun.”

They reached the car and he opened the door for her.

“Well, aren’t you a gentlemen?” she teased as she climbed in.

 

* * *

 

“So what’s going on with you?” Lindsay asked her brother. They’d just finished dinner and now they were walking down Santa Monica pier. She couldn’t stop thinking about how much this was like a date, but it was sweet that he was trying so hard to make her feel special, and she was having more fun with him than she’d ever had with Andrew.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“Like, what have you been doing lately?”

He laughed. “I think you know everything I’ve been doing. We kind of live together.”

“Yeah, but we never really talk about you.”

“Uh, I’ve been working on college applications, I guess.”

“How’s that going?”

“Uh, okay. There are so many to do, though.”

“How many are you applying to?”

“Twelve.”

 _“Twelve?”_  she repeated.

“Yeah…” he sighed. “I’ve finished seven of them, though, so there are only five left.”

“Why would you do that to yourself?” she said incredulously.

“I don’t know, I just want to have a lot of options.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you will.”

“Let’s hope so,” he laughed.

 _“Twelve,”_  she said again. “Can you name them all?”

“I think so. Let’s see…” He counted on his fingers. “Stanford, UPenn, UC Berkeley, UCLA, uh…University of Virginia, UCSD, UC Davis…University of Michigan, UCSB, UC Irvine, NYU, and UT Austin.”

“Oh my god,” she said. “Are you sure we’re twins?”

“Yeah, pretty sure,” he laughed.

“A lot of UC’s,” she said.

“Yeah, I want the in-state tuition.”

“Why? We can afford out-of-state.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be dependent on Mom and Dad any longer than I have to be.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Well, I hope you stay in California. I don’t want you go all the way to Pennsylvania or Virginia or whatever.”

“Yeah, I’d like to stay close, too. Not in LA, but somewhere on the West Coast would be good. But even if I don’t, I’ll still visit at least once a year, and I’ll call you.”

“Yeah,” she said, though she still felt hollow at the thought of him leaving. She looked out at the dark waves and wondered if he would be home on their birthday next year. She’d never had a birthday without him. She pushed the thought from her mind. She didn’t like to think about him leaving.

“Hey, let’s take a picture,” she said, remembering the camera she’d brought along.

“Okay,” he said as she took the camera out of her blue leather Esprit purse.

“Excuse me,” she said to a middle-aged woman passing by them. “Can you take our picture?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Thanks,” Lindsay replied, handing her the camera. She went over to Michael and stood next to him against the railing. The shiver that ran through her as he put his arm around her waist had nothing to do with the cold December wind coming in off the ocean. She ignored this and smiled for the picture.

“Are you two on a date?” the woman asked kindly when she’d finished taking the picture. Lindsay’s eyes widened. Michael quickly let go of her and stepped away.

“Oh, no, we’re uh—he’s my brother,” she stammered.

“Oh!” the woman said. She laughed embarrassedly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lindsay said, also laughing. “Thanks for taking the picture.”

“No problem,” she said and handed her the camera. Lindsay put it in her purse and went back to Michael, who looked even more embarrassed than she was.

“Well, that was a little weird…” she said, trying to lessen the awkwardness.

“Yeah,” he agreed, laughing uncomfortably.

“Do you want to open presents now?” she said, trying to change the subject.

“Sure,” he said gratefully.

“Okay, let’s sit here,” she said, walking over to nearby bench and sitting down. He followed her and sat down next to her.

“Okay, you go first,” she said, taking an envelope out of her purse and handing it to him. He opened it.

“Are these Simple Minds tickets?” he said.

“Yes, they’re coming in March,” she said excitedly. “I got tickets for both of us.”

“Wow, that will be amazing!” he said. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling warmly at him.

“Okay, your turn,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, taking her own present out of her purse, which she had been carrying it in. She unwrapped it. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was little black velvet box, the kind you would put jewelry in. She opened it and saw that it was a little silver necklace.

“Oh. Wow,” she said, surprised. What kind of brother gave his sister a necklace as a birthday present? Her heart beat faster. But it didn’t mean that, she knew it didn’t. “Thank you,” she said, realizing she hadn’t said it yet. “Wow, it’s beautiful!”

“You like it?”

“Yes, I love it,” she said emphatically.

“Oh, good,” he said. “I had so much trouble picking it out. Normally I would ask you for help, but since it was  _for_  you…” he trailed off. She knew they were both thinking the same thing: that the only other time he would be picking out jewelry would be if he was buying it for a girlfriend.

“Well, I love it,” she said, hating to see him feel embarrassed. She looked at the necklace more closely. It looked expensive. She felt a little thrill as she thought of him saving up his banana stand money to buy this for her.

“Here, help me put it on,” she said, giving it to him. She turned and pulled her hair up. He put the necklace on her. She shivered as his fingers brushed the back of her neck.

“Thanks,” she said when she felt the necklace fall into place.

“Don’t forget the card,” he said.

“Oh yeah,” she said, taking it out of her purse. She opened it and read.

> _Lindsay,_
> 
> _Happy 18 th birthday! This past year has been hard, but it’s made me realize how much you mean to me. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. You’re my twin sister, my best friend, and the most important person in my life. I hope you know that._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Michael_

“Oh my god,” she said when she’d finished. She felt a little dizzy. “Jesus, Michael, that’s just…thank you, wow.” She hesitated, then abruptly hugged him. She felt a thrilling breathlessness at the feeling of his arms around her as he hugged her back. “I love you,” she said, her voice faltering slightly with embarrassment, but she needed to say it. And it was true, she loved him more than anyone.

“I love you, too,” he said. She smiled, her eyes swimming with tears. She pulled away and dabbed at her eyes.

“Damn, I didn’t even get you a card,” she laughed, her voice a little shaky.

“It’s fine,” he laughed.

She leaned back against the bench and looked up at the night sky, then down at her hands twisting in her lap, trying desperately to push away the thoughts swirling around in her head. She’d never felt so confused.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrgso6dwFjw) looked up at his sister as they walked down the beach. She was looking at the ground, the wind pulling at her hair and her dress. As ridiculous as he found the amount of time and money she spent on fashion, he had to admit he liked the way she dressed. She always looked so cool, and he kind of liked to be seen with her.

He felt a rush of embarrassment as he remembered what the woman who had taken their picture had said. But it wasn’t a big deal, it only looked like they were boyfriend and girlfriend because they were the same age and they didn’t look like each other for some reason. He had wrapped his arm around her, but that was perfectly normal, everyone did that in pictures. But not all brothers gave their sisters necklaces… God, that was weird. He’d been unsure about it before, but he’d brushed his concerns aside, wanting to do something special to celebrate the beginning of her recovery. A gift card didn’t seem like it would cut it. But the look on her face when she’d opened it had instantly told him it had been a bad idea. But she knew it didn’t mean anything like that, that he would never… Still, he would try to avoid that kind of thing in the future.

“Do you remember when Andrew broke up with me and you said he was lucky to have me?” Lindsay said suddenly.

“Uh, yeah,” Michael said, confused.

“Did you really mean that? Or were just being nice?” She said it casually but there was an intensity in her voice that startled him.

“Uh, yeah, I meant it, I guess,” he said. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I was just thinking about it,” she said.

“Okay,” he laughed, quickly pushing away the thought in the back of his mind. He didn’t know if he’d really meant it. It was true that he’d only said it to make her feel better, but she was really attractive. She was also shallow and selfish, but that was just how she was. It was only because their parents had messed them up so much. And she was so fun to be around, and she understood him better than he understood himself. Andrew didn’t know her like he knew her, no one did.

“Oh no, I feel raindrops,” Lindsay said.

“Oh yeah, me too,” Michael said, looking up at the night sky. “Let’s head back.”

They turned and started walking in the direction of the car.

“Oh, shit,” Lindsay said as raindrops started falling all around them.  _“Shit!”_

Suddenly rain was thundering down on them. “Come on, over here!” Michael said, running towards the pier. She followed him under it. Raindrops were still coming through the cracks, but it was a little drier.

“Oh my god,” Lindsay said. “How are we going to get to the car?”

“Maybe it will clear up soon?” Michael said hopefully, though one glance at the rain pouring down on the beach told him this was wishful thinking. Lindsay shrieked as a river formed in the sand where she was standing and jumped closer to him.

“Okay, we’re going to have to make a run for it,” she said. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, go!”

She pulled her jacket up over her head and took off towards the parking lot. He ran after her, slipping on the wet sand. The rain came down hard on his head as he left the cover of the pier. Lindsay shrieked with laughter, though he could barely hear her over the sound of the rain and the ocean. She stopped when they reached the parking lot.

“Wait, where did we park?” she said as he stopped beside her.

“Oh, uh…I don’t remember.”

“What?!”

“Well, you don’t know, either!”

“You were the one driving!”

“What difference does that make?”

“Oh my god,” she said, taking her jacket off her head and looking up at the sky so that the raindrops splashed off her face. “That’s just fantastic.”

“I guess there’s no point in running anymore,” Michael laughed. They were both soaked.

“No, not really,” she said. “Well, let’s find the car.”

They walked together through the busy parking lot, which was red and gold with the lights of the cars shining through the rain. Michael scanned the rows of cars, but there was no sign of theirs. It wasn’t raining quite as heavily now, but it was still coming down all around them and splashing around their shoes, which were soaked through.

“Hey, is that it?” Michael said, spotting their car in the next row.

“Oh, thank god,” Lindsay said. They hurried over to it and got in.

“Oh my  _god_ ,” Lindsay said as she closed the door, leaning her head back and laughing. “Is my makeup running?”

Michael looked at her. There were indeed long black streaks of mascara running down her face.

“Uh, yeah,” he laughed. “Yeah, it’s like, all over your face.”

“Damn,” she said, trying to rub it off.

“It’s fine, it’s only me,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “Well, happy birthday!”

He laughed. “Happy birthday.”

His breath caught in his throat when she looked at him again. She looked beautiful, with raindrops clinging to her eyelashes and her wet skin shining in the orange glow of the streetlights outside. Even the mascara running down her face was kind of sexy in a way. She smiled breathlessly at him for a moment, but then her smile fell slightly and she turned away. He looked away, too, embarrassed, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUf3gXUNze0) leaned her head back against the headrest and watched the cars flash by out the window, sending up waves of rainwater in their wake. The night sky glowed purple with the lights of the city reflecting on the clouds. She glanced over at her brother in the driver’s seat, then pinched the necklace in her fingers and pulled it up off her chest to look at it more closely. It really was very pretty.  _You’re my twin sister, my best friend, and the most important person in my life. I hope you know that._ No one had ever said anything like that to her before. And why would they? She was a complete mess. There wasn’t anything lovable about her. But she and Michael had been together their whole lives, they knew each other better than anyone. She didn’t wonder why he loved her, it just made sense. Everything about him made sense. She closed her eyes. She had to stop lying to herself, she knew that she was in love with him.

It felt less like a sudden revelation than an acknowledgment of the obvious, because really, she’d known it for a while. She’d just been too afraid to admit it to herself until now. She didn’t want to be in love with him. It was weird and gross, he was her twin brother. But she’d tried and tried not to feel this way about him and it hadn’t done any good. As long as she kept it to herself it was okay, wasn’t it? She couldn’t help it, he was everything she wanted in a guy, he was movie star gorgeous and he did romantic things for her and he was crazy about her. She was sure of that. And he loved her, despite all her flaws he loved her. She’d never really felt happy with any of the guys she dated, and some part of her had always known it was because she was comparing them to Michael. How had it taken so long for her to admit to herself that she felt this way about him?

Of course, she could never tell him. She didn’t know how he would react, and she couldn’t handle him rejecting her. And even if he didn’t, they shouldn’t be together. It wasn’t healthy, it was disgusting and it could only end badly. She didn’t even know if she wanted that. The idea of actually being his girlfriend or something still grossed her out. But she did want him to want that. She remembered what he’d said when she’d started dating Andrew: ‘What is he thinking?’ But that was almost two years ago, and when Andrew had broken up with her he’d said he was lucky to have her. Of course, he hadn’t been very convincing when she’d asked him about it earlier. But if she wasn’t his sister, why wouldn’t he want her to be his girlfriend? She was pretty and popular and they had so much fun together. She knew she had her issues, but he didn’t care about that. It was nothing compared to the connection between them. She knew it was weird to care so much about this, especially when she didn’t even want to be with him, but she needed him to feel the same way about her, just so she wouldn’t feel like there was something wrong with her, or at least not something he couldn’t overlook.

But it didn’t matter anyway, because he would never tell her if he had feelings for her. She would just have to try her best to keep this to herself and hopefully someday she would get over him. But she was glad she was done lying to herself. There was no point in continuing to pretend things hadn’t changed between them, and that part of her was glad that they had.


	19. Part 1, Chapter 17

**March, 1987**

[“That](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMi5KU0UjYE) was amazing!” Lindsay said as she and Michael walked through Hollywood at night. They’d just left the Simple Minds concert.

“Yeah, it was,” Michael agreed.

“What was your favorite song of the night?” she asked him.

“Hmm… ‘Waterfront’ was really good. And ‘Don’t You Forget About Me,’ of course. What about you?”

“I really liked ‘Oh, Jungleland,’ actually. I didn’t realize how good that one was before. So, how was that for a birthday present?”

“Amazing,” he said, smiling at her. God, she loved that smile.

In the last three months she’d become much more comfortable with her feelings for Michael. Once the idea had had time to sink in she’d realized it wasn’t hurting anyone as long as she kept it to herself, and as messed up as it was, she felt kind of sexy having such a dirty secret. It was thrilling to fantasize about him kissing her, though she was still a little squeamish about picturing anything more than that. He was her twin brother after all.

She was also having fun flirting with him, dropping little hints about her feelings for him and even once ‘accidentally’ letting her tank top slip down to reveal the lacy edge of her bra while she was talking to him. She’d felt pretty gross after that, but it had been exciting to see his eyes travel downwards and then snap back up when he realized what he was doing. The best part was that she could tell he was just as crazy about her as she was about him. She doubted he was fully aware of it—she had yet to meet someone as good at lying to himself as Michael was—but she could tell that some part of him knew he was attracted to her and loved all the attention she was giving him.

She still wasn’t planning on telling him how she felt, but as time went on it became more and more frustrating that nothing would ever come of this. But she knew she had to accept that. She couldn’t imagine it ending in anything but disaster. But for the most part she was content to let things continue the way they were and just enjoy the thrilling sensation of constantly being on the edge.

“Oh my god, look at that dress!” she said, seeing a short black velvet dress in the window of one of the stores they were passing.

“Oh yeah,” Michael said distractedly.

“That would be perfect for prom, it’s exactly what I’ve been looking for!” she said. “Come on, I have to go get it.”

“Oh, come on, Lindsay,” Michael complained.

“It will only take a second!” she insisted, hurrying over to the door.

“Oh, look, it’s closed anyway,” he said, pointing at the sign.

“Damn,” she said. “Okay, but I’m coming back tomorrow. Isn’t it perfect?”

“Yeah,” Michael said unconvincingly. “Don’t you think it’s a little short?”

“Short is in, Michael.”

“Well, if you want to dress like a hooker I guess that’s up to you.”

She gaped at him. “Shut up!” she laughed. She flashed him a smile. “Like you don’t love it when I wear short dresses.”

The smile slid from Michael’s face. Lindsay blushed, realizing too late what an inappropriate thing that was to say.

“Uh, what?” he said, laughing nervously.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “So, you liked the concert?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking very confused. “Yeah, it was great.”

“Great,” she said, forcing a smile.

What had she been thinking? Of course, that had been a weird thing for him to say, too. He’d always seemed a little uncomfortable with the way she dressed, probably due to a mixture of jealousy and an inability to ignore his attraction to her when she wore revealing clothes. She kind of liked that, as she loved any kind of evidence that he was attracted to her, too. But pointing it out was not okay, what was wrong with her?


	20. Part 1, Chapter 18

**April, 1987**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIrm0dHbCDU) sat on the floor of her room and leaned against her bed as she painted her nails neon yellow and listened to music on her Walkman. Late afternoon sunlight came in through the window. She heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said. Michael opened the door and came into the room.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully, taking off her headphones.

“Hi,” he said. He sat on the floor next to her. “Uh, this is kind of embarrassing, but as you know, prom is in a week, and I don’t really know how to dance, so I was wondering if you could teach me?”

Lindsay’s heart skipped a beat. “Uh, yeah, sure,” she said. She blushed, realizing she may have sounded a little too eager. “I just need to wait for my nails to dry,” she added.

“Okay, thanks,” he said. He leaned against the bed. “What are you listening to?”

“New Depeche Mode song,” she said. “Here.” She put the headphones on him, careful not to get nail polish in his hair.

“It’s good, huh?” she said.

“Yeah, pretty good,” he agreed.

“So, do you just want to learn how to slow dance?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice casual as she pictured dancing with him.

“Yeah, that’s all,” he said.

She laughed. “You really don’t know how?”

“No, I said it was embarrassing. I just figured I’d rather make a fool of myself in front of you than Lisa.”

Lisa was Michael’s date to the prom, a pretty girl who was among the few people in the school taking as many AP classes as he was. It was hard not to feel a little jealous, but she knew Lisa didn’t mean anything to him. At least he wasn’t going with Sally Sitwell. He had asked her, but she’d turned him down since she was already going with someone else. This was an immense relief to Lindsay, who’d always been annoyed that Michael was so infatuated with her rival. Lindsay was going with Roger Danish, one of the most popular guys in school and a senior, allowing her to go to the senior prom. A few months ago she would have been thrilled to be his date, but now all she wanted was to go with Michael. If anything her feelings for her brother had only gotten stronger since their birthday.

“Well, I’m happy to help,” she said, hoping he couldn’t tell just how happy she was. “Don’t worry, it’s really easy.”

“Good,” Michael said. “Oh, and can you not tell Gob about this? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Sure,” she laughed.

Gob had moved back in two weeks earlier after dropping out of college to pursue his dream of becoming a magician. George Sr. was furious with him and had been taking every opportunity to criticize him and praise Michael, seeming to hope it would convince him to go back to college. So far all it had succeeded in doing was driving an even bigger wedge between Michael and Gob. Gob was constantly picking fights with him now. Though Michael claimed to be angry that their father was continuing to pit them against each other, Lindsay suspected he was somewhat pleased that he finally seemed to have won the competition for their father’s approval he had fostered between them since they were little kids.

“Okay, I think my nails are dry now,” she said. It wasn’t true, but they were dry enough that she wouldn’t get nail polish on his clothes, and she couldn’t wait anymore. She could fix them later if they got messed up. “I’ll put on some music,” she said, getting to her feet and crossing the room to her tape collection. She looked through her tapes, trying to choose the perfect song. She settled on “Mandolin Rain” by Bruce Hornsby. It was missing the beginning since she’d recorded it from the radio, but it was so romantic. She put it in and pressed play.

[She](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDgOwX72fLI) walked back to where Michael stood. She hesitated, a little nervous, then abruptly draped her arms around his neck. He took a small step back, startled. She blushed. Well, what had he expected?

“Put your hands on my waist,” she instructed, struggling to keep her voice steady. She hoped he couldn’t tell how nervous she was. He looked pretty nervous himself, probably realizing too late how awkward this would be. He gingerly put his hands on her waist. She shivered at his touch. “Now you just step back and forth, like this,” she said, demonstrating.

“Okay,” he said, imitating her. She noticed he was determinedly avoiding her eyes.

“And that’s pretty much it,” she said.

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “I thought there was more to it than that.”

“I told you it was easy,” she laughed.

She realized they could probably stop now that there wasn’t anything more to teach him, but she wasn’t ready to yet, they’d barely started.

“Lisa will be impressed,” she said, hoping that if they started talking it wouldn’t be so noticeable that there was no reason to continue.

Michael laughed. “Yeah, let’s hope so.”

“She’s a lucky girl,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Thanks,” he said, surprised. She thought she saw a flicker of excitement in his eyes. “Roger’s a lucky guy,” he added. Her heart leapt.

“Thanks,” she said, imitating him. He laughed.

They continued to step back and forth to the music. A warm breeze came in through the window. She took his hand from her waist, pulled it into the air, and did a twirl, finishing with their arms extended.

“Wait, this is getting more complicated,” Michael said.

She laughed. “Relax, you won’t have to do this,” she said as she twirled back to him, getting caught up in the music. “This is just for fun.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. They were much closer now. She smiled warmly at him. A little shiver went through her when he smiled back.

Her heart was still pounding madly but she wasn’t nervous anymore, just caught up in the closeness between them and the certainty that he was just as electrified as she was. He laughed as she pulled his hand into the air again and turned gracefully on one foot, the skirt of her dress fanning out around her legs. As the room spun around her she was overcome with a breathless excitement, and before she could change her mind she pulled in close to him, so close that their faces were inches apart.

The smile slid from his face. She stood frozen, shocked at her own boldness. They weren’t dancing anymore, just standing there with her arms around his neck and his hands on her waist.

“Do you like her?” she said quietly. She knew she shouldn’t, but all she could think about was the fact that he wasn’t pulling away.

“Uh…I don’t know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s pretty.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She hesitated, her heart pounding madly.

“Prettier than me?”

His mouth opened slightly. She watched the emotions play across his face as she struggled to breathe. A slight smile flickered on his lips.

“No,” he whispered.

Her breath caught in her throat.  _Don’t, don’t, don’t,_  she told herself, trying desperately to remember all the reasons why she shouldn’t, but she could see it in his eyes, she knew that if she leaned in and kissed him he wouldn’t pull away.

Suddenly the door opened and Gob came in.

“Hey, Lindsay—whoa.”

They sprang apart like they had been scalded.

“Don’t you knock?!” she said angrily. Gob’s eyes widened. “I was just teaching him how to dance,” she said quickly, realizing how that must have sounded. She remembered too late that Michael had asked her not to tell him about this, but she was sure he would rather Gob think that than the alternative. She expected Gob to make fun of him, but instead he looked suspiciously from her to Michael.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, her heart pounding.

“Uh, Mom wanted me to ask you if you’d seen her elephant brooch.”

“Oh, uh, no, I haven’t,” she said. She didn’t dare look at Michael, but judging from his silence he was even more stunned than she was.

“Okay, I’ll tell her,” Gob said. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else, but he seemed to think better of it and turned and left the room. They stood in silence for a moment, staring at the floor, then hesitantly looked up at each other.

“I think that’s enough,” Michael said shakily.

“Yeah,” Lindsay agreed.

“Okay,” he said awkwardly, and hurried out of the room.


	21. Part 1, Chapter 19

**May, 1987**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEJ26h_cBqQ) looked in the mirror of her vanity as she meticulously curled her hair, which had fallen slightly flat since her trip to the salon. It was prom night and she wanted to look perfect.

“Hey, Linds,” she heard Michael say. She turned to see him standing in the doorway in his tux.

“Hello, handsome,” she said. She smirked at the look of surprise on his face.

“Uh, hi,” he said, laughing embarrassedly. “Thanks.”

She laughed and set the curling iron down on the desk. “How do I look?” she asked, standing up and spinning around so that her black velvet dress fanned out around her legs, dangerously high. She had ended up getting the dress they’d seen the night of the concert.

“You look nice,” he said.

“That’s not a very descriptive word,” she said teasingly.

“It’s the only word I’m comfortable using,” he laughed, not meeting her eyes.

She smiled flirtatiously at him. “Try to overcome the discomfort.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Okay, you look beautiful,” he said. “How’s that?”

“Better,” she said. She sat back down and resumed curling her hair. He sat on the bed.

She’d gotten a little bolder since they’d danced together. She still couldn’t believe she’d almost kissed him, after telling herself so many times that she would never do anything, but it was hard to be mad at herself when she was so distracted by the fact that he would have kissed her back. She was sure he would have, she could just tell. She still wasn’t planning on telling him how she felt. He might feel the same way, but she couldn’t imagine them actually being together. It would probably end in disaster, and even if it didn’t it would change their relationship forever, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that. She was crazy about him, but the thought of him actually being her boyfriend was still a little too weird for her, though there was some appeal in the wrongness of it.

She was still trying to figure out what he thought about all of this. She didn’t know how he could continue to ignore his feelings for her after last week, but this was Michael. He had seemed very nervous around her for the rest of that day and she suspected he’d been avoiding her, so some part of him must have realized what had almost happened, but now things were back to how they’d been before like nothing had happened. She was glad they were, as she didn’t want him to avoid her, but she also wished he would admit to himself that he was in love with her.

“So, are you excited?” she asked him.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“That wasn’t very convincing.”

“Yeah. Prom’s not really my thing, I guess.”

“I guess Lisa’s not really your thing, either.”

“No, she’s fine,” he said, surprised.

“Also not very convincing,” she teased.

“No, really,” he protested. “I’m lucky to be going with her.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” she laughed. She set down the curling iron and tousled her hair with her fingers. She noticed Michael watching her in the mirror and smiled to herself.

“You’re wearing the necklace I gave you,” he said.

“Yeah, I wear it everyday.”

“I know, but I thought for the prom you’d want to pick something out yourself.”

She turned to him and smiled. “No, I like this one,” she said.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, smiling back. He stood up. “Well, I’d better go,” he said, suddenly embarrassed. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Okay, see you there,” she said.

“Yeah, see you,” he said as he left the room.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=snILjFUkk_A) looked nervously around the hotel ballroom, hoping Lisa wouldn’t ask him to dance. He’d been so embarrassed about asking Lindsay to teach him that he’d convinced himself all he needed to learn was slow dancing, but what would he do if she asked him now? He looked back at Lisa, who was standing next to him at the edge of the room, and tried to come up with something to fill the silence, which was starting to become noticeably long. They’d really hit it off when they were working on a physics project together. Was there something he could say about that?

“How did the AP Physics test go?” he asked. He realized too late that that might have been a rude question.

“Oh, um, not that well,” she said.  _Damn it,_  he thought.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, I’m sure you did well on the other ones,” he said. Did that sound condescending?

“Yeah, Spanish and Calc went pretty well,” she said. “What about you, how did your physics test go?”

“Uh, okay,” he said. It actually had gone pretty well, but he didn’t want to say that after she’d said hers hadn’t.

“Oh, well, you probably won’t need physics credit anyway. You’re going to major in business, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right.” He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of annoyance. He’d said it had gone okay, not badly. He was pretty sure he was going to earn college credit for it.

He saw Lindsay and her date enter the room. Her simple black dress stood out among the sea of ruffles and metallics. She smiled when she saw him and gave him a little wave. He smiled and waved back.

“Who are you waving to?” Lisa asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Oh, just my sister. Hey, do you want to go talk to her and Roger?” he asked, thinking it would be easier to talk to Lisa in a group. For some reason she looked uncomfortable with the suggestion.

“Her?” she said.

 

* * *

 

“So, how is your night going so far?” Lindsay asked her brother. They were sitting at a table with their dates. Lindsay had been careful to sit next to Michael when the four of them sat down.

“Good,” he said.

“Well, you look gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” he said, a little embarrassed.

“How do I look?” she asked. He laughed.

“Nice.”

“You bastard,” she teased.

“Is that like an inside joke or something?” Lisa said.

“Oh yeah, it’s uh, it’s just something we said earlier,” Michael said, seeming to just remember that she was there. Lindsay smiled to herself. As bad as she knew it was, she was thoroughly enjoying distracting Michael every time Lisa tried to talk to him just to show her who he was really interested in.

“Hey, Lindsay, do you want to go dance?” Roger asked her.

“Not yet,” she said, turning back to Michael.

“I love your dress, by the way,” Lisa said to her before she could talk to Michael again.

“Thank you,” Lindsay said. “Michael doesn’t agree.”

“What?” Michael said. “Oh yeah,” he laughed embarrassedly. “I didn’t mean that I didn’t like it, I just…never mind.”

“You just what?” she said flirtatiously. He laughed and shook his head.

“Let’s go dance,” Lisa said suddenly.

“What? Oh, okay,” Michael said, getting up and following Lisa, who was already stalking away.

 

* * *

 

Michael clenched his teeth as he watched Lindsay and Roger dancing, though it was really more of an extremely tight embrace. They were barely even moving, just swaying slightly to the music as Roger’s hand moved progressively lower on her back. Who did he think he was, doing that in front of everyone, including her brother? And why was Lindsay letting him? And wearing that short dress…

“You and your sister are really close, huh?” Lisa said.

“What? Oh, uh, yeah, I guess,” Michael said, suddenly remembering that he was dancing with her. “Well, you know, we’re twins.”

“It seems like you really care about her,” she said, her tone inexplicably frosty.

“Oh. Well, I do.”

“I can tell.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He didn’t know why she looked so annoyed. Wasn’t it a good thing to care about your sister?

“Do you have any siblings?” he asked, making a desperate stab at conversation.

“No.”

“Oh.”

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_E2EHVxNAE) rested her head on Roger’s shoulder and closed her eyes. A year ago she would have been thrilled to be here at the senior prom, dancing with one of the most popular guys in school. She would have convinced herself that she was in some fairytale romance and the fact that his arms were wrapped so tightly around her would have made her go crazy. But instead she felt nothing.

The whole night had been like this. She’d been on autopilot, trying her best to seem fun and sexy like she always had in situations like this, but it had never felt like so much work. As soon as she’d started talking to Michael she’d completely forgotten about her date. After he left she realized Roger seemed annoyed and slightly creeped out that she seemed to be more interested in her brother than him. She’d been extra flirtatious to try to make up for it, but as the night wore on she found herself caring less and less what he thought of her.

She scanned the crowd for Michael. She saw him across the room dancing with Lisa. He looked like he was enjoying himself even less than she was. She wished she could be there with him, her arms draped around his neck, his hands on her waist, him looking at her like she was the most beautiful girl in the room. Suddenly it struck her how ridiculous this was. Here they were, struggling to impress people who didn’t know them, didn’t care about them, when the person who loved them more than anyone was right there across the room. She didn’t care anymore, she knew she wanted to be with him.

It didn’t even feel wrong anymore. She’d been trying to convince herself that she still knew it was messed up, but the truth was that some part of her had always felt like they would be together someday. She knew he felt the same way, that there was something inevitable about them. He may not have accepted it yet, but someday he might, and if he did she knew how she would respond. She had to be with him, she could never be happy with anyone else.

 

* * *

 

Michael continued to dance with Lisa, who had lapsed into an icy silence. He had no idea why she seemed so annoyed at him. He wondered if Lindsay was enjoying herself more than he was. For the hundredth time he looked over to where she was dancing with Roger and saw that she was looking at him, too. His mouth went dry as their eyes met. Even at this distance he could see the longing in her eyes. She gave him a small, sad smile. He smiled back.

“Okay, what is going on between you and Lindsay?” Lisa said suddenly, pulling away from him.

“What?”

“My friends told me there was something weird about you two and I didn’t believe them, but you’ve been looking at her all night and it’s starting to creep me out.”

“There’s nothing—she’s my sister!” Michael stammered. “Who’s saying that?”

“Everyone is, and I’m starting to think they’re right. The way you two act around each other is seriously messed up.”

“Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with  _me_?”

“Look, there is nothing going on between me and Lindsay, so you can tell all your friends that.”

“Whatever, I’m so done with this,” she said.

“Fine!” he said angrily as she turned on her heel and stalked away.

 

* * *

 

“Whoa, it looks like Michael and Lisa had a fight,” Lindsay said, watching Michael storm out of the room. She pulled away from Roger. “I’m going to go see what happened.”

“Seriously?” he said.

“It will only take a second!” she said over her shoulder as she hurried away. She wove through the crowd to the doors, opened them and went out into the hallway. She saw Michael at the end of it.

“Michael!” she called after him. He turned around.

“Oh, hi,” he said. She hurried over to him, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

“What was that about?” she asked when she reached him.

“Oh, you saw that?”

“Yeah, what happened?”

“Uh…I don’t really want to talk to you about it.”

“Oh,” she said, slightly hurt. She sat down on a nearby bench. Michael sat next to her. “Wait, me specifically?”

“Yeah…”

“Why? Was it about me?”

“Uh, yeah, it actually was.”

“It was?” she repeated. “Well, now you have to tell me!”

“I’d really rather not…”

“Michael!”

“Ugh, fine,” he groaned. “It’s just, it’s kind of awkward. Okay, apparently she—and everyone else, I guess—apparently some people think there might be something…inappropriate going on between us.”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing weakly. “Crazy, right?”

“Yeah, crazy… Who’s saying that?”

“I don’t know, she just said everyone.”

“Oh my god,” she said again. What had she been thinking, flirting with him so openly in front of everyone earlier? She realized she’d kind of wanted people to know that Michael had feelings for her without really thinking about what that would mean. She kept forgetting that other people would think their relationship was disgusting. Also discouraging was how freaked out Michael seemed to be. “Well, screw them,” she said. “Who cares what they think? Really,” she said when he looked unconvinced. “We’re close. There’s nothing wrong with that. If they want to make it into something it’s not, that’s their problem.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

“Good,” she said simply.

“I  _can_  understand why some people might think that, though,” he said, looking extremely embarrassed. “You know, with the way we act sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” she laughed.

“Uh, well, you know,” he said, his face turning red. “Like, when you sat down you touched my leg.” She raised her eyebrows. “Now,  _I_ know there’s nothing weird about that,” he said quickly. “But other people might not get that, so…maybe we should try to avoid that kind of thing when we’re in public.”

“Okay, got it,” she said. “No touching.”

“Right,” he laughed. There was an awkward silence. He laughed again. “So how is your night going?”

“Uh, better than yours, but not by much.”

“Really? Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know Roger very well, so it’s not that fun. He’s kind of pissed at me, too, actually. I sort of ditched him to come talk to you.”

“Oh. Thanks. You should go back, I’m fine.”

“No, I don’t really want to,” she said, smiling warmly at him. He smiled back. She leaned back against the bench and sighed. “You wanna go home?”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

She laughed. “Okay, let’s go,” she said, getting up. Michael stood up, too.

“What about Roger?” he said.

“Oh yeah…it doesn’t matter, let’s just go.”

He laughed. “You should probably at least tell him you’re leaving so he’s not looking for you.”

“Ugh, fine,” she groaned. “I’ll go find him, you wait here.”

“Okay,” he said as she left.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGeSO84aDBE) sat on the bench in the hallway, unsuccessfully trying not to think about what Lisa had said. Was it really that obvious? It wasn’t fair, they hadn’t even done anything. He hoped people wouldn’t see them leaving together. Of course, she was telling Roger. But obviously it was because they lived together, no one would think anything else. He looked up at the sound of the door opening.

“Did you find him?” he said as Lindsay walked down the steps toward him, her dress swishing around her long legs.

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s not too happy with me.”

Michael laughed and got up. “I feel kind of bad for him,” he said as they walked down the hallway together, though he couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

“Yeah…” she said. She laughed. “Maybe he and Lisa will end up together. They can bond over how the Bluth twins went home with each other instead of them.”

Michael looked up at her. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It was just a joke!”

“Well, I know that!”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” she said. “You’re really freaked out by this, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Don’t worry. Most people probably don’t believe it anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, hoping it was true.

“Of course I am. So let’s just forget it happened and move on.”

“I’m all for that,” he agreed.

They reached the entrance and stepped out in the cool night air. He could faintly hear the music coming from inside, mixing with the sound of the waves behind the hotel. He looked cautiously up at his sister. She really did look beautiful that night with her black dress contrasting with her pale skin and her blonde hair pulled up to reveal the smooth line of her shoulders and neck. He had to accept it, this was getting ridiculous. He couldn’t keep telling himself that he wasn’t in love with her.

No, he was attracted to her, and he loved her as a sister, but he was not in love with her. But he was definitely attracted to her, he had been since middle school. He’d known she felt the same way about him even longer. He’d spent the last several years trying not to think about it and hoping it would go away. He’d even managed to mostly push the fact that he’d almost kissed her last week when they were dancing from his mind. But he couldn’t stay in denial anymore, the whole school knew, for god’s sake.

He hated that he felt this way about her. It was disgusting and perverted, and it was yet another example of him trying to be different from his family and failing. Incestuous thoughts seemed to be something of a default in his family, something he’d always been somewhat aware of and embarrassed by. He liked to think that he was different from them. He knew he had his issues, but he wasn’t quite as bad as them. But here he was, hopelessly in love with his sister. Jesus Christ, was it genetic?

Still, he couldn’t help but be glad that she seemed to feel the same way. It made him feel at least a little less crazy. And if he was being honest with himself, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he felt this strongly about her and she felt nothing in return. And it was flattering that someone as beautiful and popular as her was attracted to him, especially after all the times she’d made fun of him. Of course, the only reason was that she was so insecure. He was just there, he was nicer to her than anyone else in her life, which wasn’t exactly a high bar, and she could probably tell that he was attracted to her and it made her feel good about herself. There wasn’t anything special about him.

But even as he told himself this he knew there was more to it than that. Her insecurity was certainly part of it, but it was also because he was the only one who had been there for her when she’d needed him. And even before that, there had always been a deep connection between them. Something about them just made sense.

He stopped himself. There was nothing beautiful or romantic about this, it was disgusting. It was good that they were so much closer than they used to be and he was glad that he’d seemed to help her when she was feeling alone, but that was separate. Their attraction to each other just poisoned what they had and turned it into something ugly. He had to try to forget this and move on, there wasn’t any other option.


	22. Part 1, Chapter 20

**July, 1987**

[The](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rf2OPIJcS5k) Bluth family sat on the beach in silence. It was the Fourth of July and they’d gone to Huntington Beach to watch the fireworks, but none of them were feeling particularly conversational as they waited for them to start. Michael, meanwhile, was preoccupied with trying not to notice how pretty Lindsay looked sitting next to him on the picnic blanket in her short, low-cut dress. He was sure he wasn’t imagining it, she was definitely wearing more revealing clothes when she was around him now.

“Mom, can I swim in the ocean?” Buster asked.

“Absolutely not,” Lucille said.

Michael jumped slightly as Lindsay leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear, “You wanna get out of here?”

“Uh, where do you want to go?” he said quietly, his heart beating quickly.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “We could just walk down the beach a little ways.”

“Okay,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Great,” she whispered. She stood up. “We’re going to walk down the beach,” she said to the rest of the family as Michael stood up, too.

Lucille raised her eyebrows. “Alright,” she said.

Lindsay started walking away. Michael followed her, glancing nervously back at his parents. Lately their mother had been making less and less subtle remarks about how close they were, and he was starting to worry she suspected something was going on between them. Which wasn’t true, he thought angrily, they hadn’t done anything. But Lindsay wasn’t helping when she did things like this in front of everyone. Gob had also seemed a little suspicious ever since he’d walked in on them dancing together. Thankfully their father didn’t seem to have noticed anything.

“Don’t you just love our family celebrations?” Lindsay said sarcastically when they were out of earshot. Michael laughed. “Ugh, I can’t believe you’re leaving next month and I’ll be stuck with them for another year.”

“Sorry,” he said guiltily. Lindsay hadn’t been very subtle about her jealousy that he was going to college and she wasn’t. He’d told her, though, he’d tried to convince her to go to summer school instead of repeating ninth grade and she hadn’t listened. Still, it was hard not to feel guilty. “It’s just one more year, and then you’ll be done, too,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s going to be torture without you,” she said. “Just me and Gob and Buster and Dad and  _Mom_.”

He laughed. “Yeah, it’s going to be bad. I’ll call you every day, though, it will be like I’m still here.”

“Good,” she said. “You’d better.”

“Of course I will,” he said, and he meant it. He was excited about going to college, but he wasn’t quite ready to leave his twin sister behind. In some ways it was a good thing. He was hoping that living apart would help him get over his feelings for her. But he would miss her. It was hard to imagine only seeing her on the holidays after they’d spent their whole lives together. Even worse was the fear that she would relapse when he was gone. She was only going to therapy once a week now and for the first time since middle school she looked healthy, but he couldn’t shake the fear that she would spin out of control when she didn’t have him there to support her anymore.

“So have you thought about where you’re going to go next year?” he asked.

“Not really,” she said. “Maybe Boston.”

“Boston?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Nothing, it’s just…why Boston? Is there a specific college there you want to go to?”

“No, I just want to go somewhere different from here. There are a lot of colleges there, right?”

“Well, yeah, but you should probably find a specific one you’re interested in,” Michael said, a little frustrated by her indifference toward her future, and slightly hurt that she would want to go somewhere so far away. “We wouldn’t see each other much if you went there,” he pointed out.

“Aww, would you miss me?” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I would miss you,” he said. She smiled at him.

“I won’t, then,” she said. She stopped and sat down a piece of driftwood. He sat next to her. “Maybe I could go somewhere near you,” she said. “Are there any colleges near Berkeley that I could get into?”

“Uh, not that I know of, but I’m sure there are. That would be great.”

“Yeah, it would be,” she said, and he loved the way her eyes lit up when she said it. “We could take turns visiting each other every weekend and go to parties together. Yeah, I really like this idea.”

“Me, too,” he said, though he felt a little uneasy picturing them alone in a dorm room without their parents in the next room. But a year would probably be enough to get over her, and it would be nice to see her more. And he couldn’t help it, he loved how excited she seemed to be about the possibility of living near him again. “Okay, I’ll look through my college guide when we get home and find something for you,” he said.

“Great,” she said, looking out at the waves. “Yeah, I’d feel a lot better about you leaving. I just have to get through one more year with Mom and then it will be just the two of us in San Francisco, or wherever the college you find is.”

 _Just the two of us,_  he thought. “Sounds good,” he said.

She smiled. “Yeah, it does.”

_CRACK!_

“Oh, look!” she said, looking up at the sky as the fireworks exploded above them. Michael just kept watching her as her beautiful, familiar face glowed red in the light of the fireworks, and though he kept telling himself he was just confused, all he could think was,  _I love her._

She glanced over at him. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw that he was looking at her, and then her red lips spread into a teasing smile. He turned away, embarrassed. He looked up at the sky and pretended to watch the fireworks, though he was too distracted by the feeling of her watching him to pay any attention to them. He saw her move in his peripheral vision and then he felt her hand on his. He froze. This was not okay, she knew that. He glanced nervously at the other people on the beach a few yards away. Of course, they didn’t know they were brother and sister, but still. She tried to lean against him, but he stood up and pulled his hand away.

“Maybe we should go back now,” he said shakily, his heart pounding.

“Oh,” she said, blushing. “Okay.”

She stood up and they walked back down the beach in silence. He glanced over at her. She was determinedly looking down at the sand, her jaw set. She looked like she might cry. He turned away guiltily. He wanted to apologize, but that would mean acknowledging what had happened, so he didn’t say anything.


	23. Part 1, Chapter 21

**August, 1987**

[“So](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20Ov0cDPZy8) how does it feel to be leaving home tomorrow?” Lindsay said, leaning over the concrete wall that wrapped around the roof of the Bluth Company building. To celebrate Michael leaving home they’d stolen some of their mother’s vodka and sneaked up there to watch the sunset, using the code Lindsay had gotten by discreetly watching their father enter it in on ‘Bring Your Daughter to Work Day.’

“Good,” Michael said. “I’ll miss you, though.”

“Aww, thanks,” she said, her words a little slurred. “You don’t need to pretend you’re not excited, though, I can handle it.” She bent down and picked up the bottle of vodka from the ground, then stood back up and refilled her cup. “You want some more?” she said, offering him the bottle.

“No, thanks.”

“Come on, you’ve barely had any!”

“No, I don’t want to be hungover on my first day there. Plus one of us needs to drive back.”

“Ugh, why d’you have to be so damn responsible?” she groaned. “No reason why I shouldn’t though. Cheers!” she said, taking a drink.

Michael laughed. “Maybe you should slow down a bit.”

“No, I’m drowning my sorrows,” she laughed. She smiled sadly at him. “I don’t want you to leave,” she said more seriously.

“I really am going to miss you,” he said.

“I’m gonna miss  _you_ ,” she said. “A lot.” She looked out over the city. The strands of her hair being pulled out of place by the wind glowed orange in the light of the sunset behind her. “We should just run away,” she said.

“What?”                                                                        

“You and me. We’ll sneak out in the middle of the night. You’re already packed.” She said it like a joke but there was serious edge in her voice that made his heart beat faster.

“Where would we go?” he asked, laughing nervously.

“Anywhere,” she said, smiling excitedly at him. “Where do you want to go?”

“Um…I think I want to go to college.”

“No, wrong answer, Michael!” she laughed, slamming her hand down on the wall.

“What’s the right answer?” he laughed.

“I dunno, Paris or something.”

“With what money?”

“I don’t know, jeez, it’s a hypothetical situation!”

“Okay, okay, Paris, then,” he said.

“Thank you!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. He laughed.

“What will we do in Paris?” he asked.

She smiled flirtatiously. “Whatever we want.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Too bad it’s a hypothetical situation,” he said.

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. He looked away, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have said that. Every time he was alone with her he forgot how wrong this was.

Lindsay picked up her drink and sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. He sat down next to her. The sky had faded to a dusty blue now.

“Lindsay?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I mean, I know it might be hard, but… please try to take care of yourself when I’m gone, okay?”

Lindsay laughed. “You think I’m gonna fall apart without you?”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s fine,” she interrupted. “You really did help me last fall. But you don’t need to worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” he said, though he wasn’t completely reassured. “That’s really good.”

She laughed and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He remembered when she’d tried to do this on the Fourth of July and he hadn’t let her. At the time he’d thought he’d done the right thing, but now it seemed ridiculous. A warm breeze swirled around them, causing feathery strands of her hair to brush his face. He looked down at her hand resting on the concrete. Could brothers and sisters hold hands? He realized he’d never cared less. He put his hand on top of hers. He felt her body tense slightly against him. Then she twisted her hand around and interlaced her fingers with his.

He leaned his head back against the wall and looked out at the lights glittering on the hills in the distance. He knew he was going to miss this. As much as he wished he didn’t feel this way about her, he wasn’t quite ready for whatever this was to end. Maybe it wasn’t over. He would still call her every day and she was going to apply to the Dominican University of California, which was only half an hour away from Berkeley. Maybe in a year things would be right back to this crazy, thrilling state like nothing had happened.

 _Don’t,_  he told himself. He couldn’t hope for that. Something was going to happen if things continued like this. If he was being honest with himself he was surprised that nothing had happened already. He hoped they would stay close, but he needed to do his best to move on and maybe find someone else and hope that in a year he wouldn’t think of her as anything but a sister.

But since it was their last night together, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone if he let himself enjoy the pressure of her body against his and the knowledge that if he turned and kissed her right now she would kiss him back. He thought about the rollercoaster ride that had been this last year. He wished he didn’t, but he was glad things had gotten like this. And up here with her head on his shoulder and her hand in his and the rest of the world feeling so far away, it seemed like the perfect way for it to end.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wp43OdtAAkM) looked out at the lights glittering in the darkness as they drove home. Her head felt heavy against the headrest from the alcohol. She tried to block out the bitter disappointment that was building up inside her, but it was no use. He was leaving tomorrow, and she would have to accept that everything that had happened in the last year had amounted to nothing.

Maybe in a year when they were living near each other again it would still be the same, but she didn’t believe that. She knew he wanted to put this behind him. She understood why, but it didn’t make her feel any less angry. Why would he want things to go back to how they were before when this was so much better? Now he was going to go to college and she was going to stay home and maybe he would find some college girl and try to pretend this was just an embarrassing phase that was best forgotten, when it was the happiest she’d ever been.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t make a move, not after what had happened on the Fourth of July. She felt another stab of pain at the memory. She wished he knew how much he’d hurt her. He probably did know, he just tried not to think about it, how hard it had been for her to build up the courage to even hold his hand and how it had felt when he pulled it away. But maybe now things would be different. That night when they’d gotten home he’d looked through his college guide just like he’d said he would and put together a list for her, and just now he’d held her hand.  _He’d_  held  _her_  hand. But as much as she wanted to believe that he wouldn’t reject her again, she knew it was probably wishful thinking. Maybe he would kiss her back, or maybe even more (a little thrill went through her at the thought), but even if he did, what would happen after that? She had a hard time imagining him wanting to be in some sort of long-term relationship with her. No, he would just say it was a mistake and that it was disgusting and wrong and then things would be awkward between them and everything they’d built over the last year would be ruined.

But maybe it was worth the risk. She had to be with him, she couldn’t handle the possibility that they might go through their whole lives without ever even acknowledging that there was something between them. And what if this was the best chance she was ever going to get and she was letting it slip away, or maybe it already had? She just needed more time. If she had another month she could figure out what to do. Right now she was drunk and confused and frustrated, but he was still leaving in the morning and there was nothing she could do about it.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SKn0gbPScuo) stood in his room and looked through the list he’d made of things to pack to make sure he’d gotten everything. It was late and everyone was asleep except Lindsay, whose light was still on across the hallway. He was surprised she was still awake. She’d barely been able to make it up the stairs she was so drunk when they’d gotten home half an hour ago.

He guiltily remembered how he’d held her hand on the roof. It wasn’t that bad, it was just holding hands, but it seemed so much worse.  _Too bad it’s a hypothetical situation._  What had he been thinking? It was a good thing he was leaving tomorrow, he needed to get out of here.

He heard footsteps in the hallway. His door opened and Lindsay came in. His mouth went dry when he saw her standing there in the doorway. She was wearing the same white t-shirt and acid-washed jeans as before, but somehow she looked even better.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she said, smiling shyly, though she didn’t meet his eyes. She closed the door and walked unsteadily through the suitcases strewn across the floor to where he stood. “D’you need any help packing?” she asked.

“Oh, thanks,” he said, surprised. Lindsay rarely offered to help with anything. “Uh, no, I’m pretty much done.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. She had one arm across her body and she was looking at the floor. “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” she said, her voice wavering slightly.

“Yeah, me neither,” he said, wondering why she looked so nervous. He watched her take a deep breath and then exhale slowly.

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

The corners of her mouth curled up into a small smile, but she still didn’t meet his eyes. She bit her lip.

“Uh, is there something you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked uncertainly.

Her mouth opened slightly. She looked up at him. Then she laughed. “Yeah, something like that,” she said quietly. Then she stepped forward and kissed him.

He stepped back in surprise, but she put her hand behind his head and pulled him back to her. He stood in shock for a moment, trying to process that this was actually happening, but she didn’t pull away, she just kept kissing him desperately, and then without really making a conscious decision he was kissing her back. He felt her tense in surprise, and that just made him hate himself even more, that she’d thought he wouldn’t, but then she was wrapping her arms around him and he was losing himself in the taste of vodka on her lips and the feeling of her hand in his hair. He uncertainly put his hand on her waist, then moved it to her back and pulled her closer to him. She made a small noise of surprise, but he ignored it, thinking about the feeling of her body against his while half-heartedly trying not to enjoy it.

She pulled away from him and took off her shirt, revealing her lacy black bra. They stared at each other for a moment, both a little stunned. He thought he saw a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. But then she kissed him again, with even more intensity and desperation than before, and all he could do was kiss her back. He vaguely registered her hand moving down his arm and then she took his hand in hers and climbed onto the bed, pulling him with her. He climbed on top of her, pushing one of his suitcases to the edge of the bed to make room for them.  _Your sister,_  he said to himself, but it just made him want her more. She wrapped her legs around him, kicking the suitcase off the bed as she did so that his books and clothes spilled out on the floor.

“Oh, sorry,” she said.

He laughed shakily. “It’s fine.”

She laughed, too, and something about the sound of it made him realize that this was Lindsay, more familiar to him than anyone. They looked at each other, a little surprised to find themselves there. She smiled breathlessly up at him. He kissed her again.

She wasn’t nervous anymore, he could feel it. His worries were starting to fade into the background as well. He didn’t know how far she wanted to go, or how far he wanted to go for that matter, but he tried not to think about that as he kissed her mouth, and then her cheek, and then her neck, passing over the necklace he’d given her. She sighed as he moved down her neck, and he kind of liked that, that it was him who was turning her on like that.

She reached down and fumbled with the button on her jeans. His heart skipped a beat. They couldn’t actually have sex, she was his sister, they were twins. But then she was unzipping her jeans, and pulling them off, and he was struggling to remember what was so wrong about it. He kissed her again, afraid to do anything else, trying to ignore that his first time was going to be with his sister and that the word “incest” was playing over and over in his head. But he wanted her so much, he’d wanted this for years, and it didn’t feel wrong, it felt inevitable. It was okay, no one would know as long as they were quiet.

She could get pregnant. A cold shock went through him as the realization hit him. He tried to ignore it, he wanted her so badly. It was unlikely, just one time, but Jesus Christ, what if he got his sister pregnant?

He pulled away from her. “We shouldn’t,” he said breathlessly.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, and kissed him again. He closed his eyes. They didn’t have to go all the way, they could just keep doing this. But it didn’t feel good anymore, he was too repulsed by the idea of her having his deformed baby. They didn’t belong together, it was exactly the opposite.

He pulled away again. “No, we really shouldn’t,” he said, climbing off of her and sitting up. She propped herself up on her elbow.

“It’s okay,” she said. “No one will know.” She smiled weakly. “I love you so much.”

He looked at his sister sitting on the bed in her underwear, her hair coming out of her braid, her face flushed from the alcohol, telling him that she loved him.

“This is wrong…” he said, more to himself than to her. He got off the bed and quickly walked towards the door.

“Wait, Michael,” she called after him, but he ignored her and closed the door behind him.

He stood in the dark hallway, his heart pounding, the reality of what had just happened finally sinking in. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. It was okay if he never acted on it, that was what he’d always told himself, as long as he never did anything about it. But he hadn’t gone through with it, that had to count for something. But he should have stopped it as soon as she’d kissed him. He thought about how he’d climbed on top of her, kissed her neck. God, it disgusting, and wrong, and perverted, his own sister.

 _I love you so much._  Right then, like that made it okay, when really it made it so much worse. She wasn’t really in love with him, she was just confusing her normal, sisterly love for something romantic, so desperate for someone to be attracted to her. That was how this whole thing had started, the only reason she thought she was in love with him was that he was the only one who had paid any attention when she was starving herself. He shouldn’t have let it get this far, he shouldn’t have led her on this whole last year just because he liked the attention. What was wrong with him?

He jumped as he heard the creak of footsteps on the stairs. He hadn’t realized anyone else was still awake. Gob came up the stairs.

“What’s up with you?” he said when he saw Michael’s face.

Michael sighed. “I’ve made a huge mistake.”


	24. Part 2, Chapter 1

**August, 1987**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euuPqJiEhdo) stepped out of the bathroom into the dark hallway in her pink bathrobe, her hair wet from the shower. As she was walking to her room she heard the phone ring downstairs and froze.

“Hello?” she heard her mother say. “Michael, I’m glad you called. I need you to settle a dispute between me and Buster. He wants to go to a PG-13-rated movie but I don’t think he’s ready.”

Lindsay’s heart started beating quickly. She’d been waiting by the phone all day for Michael to call, ever since he’d left that morning. He’d left an hour earlier than he said he would, so that by the time she woke up he was already out the door and all she’d had time to say to him was a quick goodbye in front of the rest of the family. She hurried downstairs to the kitchen.

“I know he’s fourteen!” her mother was saying into the phone. “But he’s such an impressionable little boy, and the things they put in movies these days.”

“Can I talk to him?” Lindsay asked.

“I’m in the middle of something,” she said. “ _Dirty Dancing_. I mean, the title alone! What? I should’ve known you’d take his side. Just like your father, couldn’t care less what Buster watches.”

“Please,” Lindsay said desperately. Lucille sighed exasperatedly.

“Fine,” she said. “Your sister wants to talk to you.”

She handed the phone to Lindsay.

“Hi,” Lindsay said into the receiver, her heart pounding.

“Hi,” she heard Michael say. He sounded nervous.

“How are you?” she asked, watching her mother pour herself a glass of wine.

“Uh, good. How are you?”

“Good,” she said, though that was far from the truth. “Have you moved in yet?”

“Yeah, I just finished unpacking.”

“What’s your dorm like?” she asked as Lucille left the kitchen. Lindsay took the phone out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, stretching the cord as far as it would go.

“Good,” he said.

“Good.” She closed the door as much as she could while still leaving a crack for the cord. “Okay, we need to talk about last night,” she said, lowering her voice.

There was a silence.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about,” he said. “Obviously it was…a mistake and…and we shouldn’t let anything like that happen again.”

Lindsay swallowed. She’d expected something like this but it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“It wasn’t a mistake for me,” she said, her voice wavering. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, and I know you feel the same way—”

“Lindsay—”

“It’s not actually that bad when you think about it,” she said quickly. “It’s not like it would hurt anyone, no one would even know.”

“Lindsay, please—”

“It’s just, I love you, and—and I know you’re not sure about this, but we’re so good for each other. I think we belong together.”

“Wha—we don’t belong together, we’re siblings!”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Yes, it does! Ugh, look, I can’t talk about this here, I’m outside at a payphone, someone might hear.”

“Please, just think about it, it’s not actually that bad.”

“Not that bad? Lindsay, just—it’s not an option, okay? I’m sorry, but I’m not going to change my mind, so please—” He broke off. “I’m sorry, I really can’t talk about this right now. Sorry.”

“Michael, wait—” she said, but then she heard the phone click and knew that he was gone.


	25. Part 2, Chapter 2

**September, 1987**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-GMDMnep3E) walked across the school parking lot, squinting in the bright sunlight. She got into her car and took her lunch out of her backpack and ate.

She hadn’t spoken to Michael in a month. After that phone call the night he left she’d been too hurt to call him again, and she’d been relieved when he didn’t call her either. But after a few days of that she’d started to feel annoyed. He’d promised to call her every day. She kept waiting for him to call her, wanting to make him be the first and thinking he would have to eventually, but now a month had gone by and he still hadn’t. She’d heard her parents talking to him a few times, but apparently he never asked to talk to her.

It was so unfair, she’d only done it because she was drunk, didn’t he realize that? And he’d kissed her back, he’d almost had sex with her, and now he was acting like she was the crazy one. How could he do this to her, just abandon her like this after everything that had happened in the last year? She thought about that night again. It had been replaying over and over in her mind for the last month, the thrill of him kissing her back, her initial fear and uncertainty and the moment it all melted away, and the flash of panic she’d felt when he’d pulled away from her. How she’d told him she loved him and all he’d said was that it was wrong.

The worst part was that as angry as she was, she still missed him like crazy. She felt so lonely. She wasn’t very close to anyone else in her family and her social life was still in disrepair, especially since most of her friends had graduated now. She was slowly rebuilding her friendships with the ones that hadn’t, but the shallow and competitive relationships she had with them did nothing to fill the hole left by Michael’s absence. And as the weeks went by she felt less and less like socializing and had taken to eating lunch by herself in the car again.

She hated to admit it to herself, but she wished she hadn’t stopped going to therapy, just so she would have someone to talk to. She’d convinced her father to stop making her go, telling him she didn’t need it anymore and that it was interfering with school. But if she went back now everyone would think she was relapsing. It was hard, though. She’d always gone to Michael with her problems, but now she had no one.

 

* * *

 

Michael sat at his desk, looking blankly at his economics textbook in the lamplight and struggling to keep his eyes open. It was looking like he was going to be up late again tonight. He’d been a little too eager when signing up for classes and was beginning to worry he’d taken on too much.

The phone on his desk rang, startling him awake. He picked it up.

“Hello?” he said.

“Hey, it’s me.”

He jumped when he recognized Lindsay’s voice. “Oh, hi,” he said, glancing nervously at his roommate, who was sitting on his bed doing homework.

“How are you?” she asked, a little shakily.

“Good,” he said uncomfortably. “How are you?”

“Good. I’ve missed you,” she said, the emotion plain in her voice.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Michael said, his heart beating faster.

“You haven’t called me once,” she said. She did a little half-laugh as she said it but there was no mistaking the accusatory note in her voice.

“Oh yeah,” he said guiltily. “Sorry, I’ve been really busy.” She didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry, I’ll try to call you more,” he added.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

Michael cursed silently, feeling extremely guilty about how hurt she sounded. He’d spent the last month telling himself he should call her, but he’d been too afraid she would try to convince him to be in some kind of relationship with her again and he’d convinced himself that her silence meant she didn’t want to talk to him either.

“So how are things at home?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Uh, okay, I guess. Well, you know. I guess it’s just the same as it’s always been.”

“Everything’s okay?” he asked, her answer bringing back his fears of her relapsing while he was away.

“I haven’t relapsed if that’s what you’re asking,” she snapped.

“Oh—that’s not what I meant,” he said, caught off guard. “Well, that’s good. Yeah, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” she said stiffly. “Listen, I have to go. I just wanted to check in really quick.”

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry I haven’t called you.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye,” she said, hanging up before he could respond.


	26. Part 2, Chapter 3

**November, 1987**

Michael pulled into the driveway of his family’s house and got out of the car. It was Thanksgiving and he was going to be home for the next four days. He went around to the trunk and took out his suitcase, then pulled it up to the front door.

He wasn’t particularly happy to be home. He’d been enjoying college and the only person he’d really missed was Lindsay, but the idea of seeing her again only filled him with dread. He’d called her three times since she’d called him, trying to make up for before, but every time she just seemed annoyed and quickly made an excuse to get off the phone, and eventually he’d given up. She hadn’t called him either, and it had been almost two months since they’d spoken. If her recent behavior was any indication, this was going to be an extremely awkward visit.

As he opened the door he heard his mother screeching, “Rosa, how many times do I have to tell you, if you get water on the counter you have to clean it up?!”

Michael grimaced. “Hi, Mom,” he called. Lucille came into the hallway.

“Michael,” she said warmly and hugged him. He kissed her cheek. “How was the drive here?”

“Good,” he said. “The turkey smells good.”

“Let’s hope so,” she said darkly, apparently having not forgotten how Rosa had overcooked the turkey the year before. “Your father will be home in an hour.”

“Hey, brother!”

Michael looked up and saw his younger brother walking down the stairs.

“Buster!” Michael said, going over to him and hugging him, too. He heard someone else coming down the stairs and looked up and saw Lindsay. His mouth went dry when he saw her. She was looking especially pretty in a very short, tight-fitting dress that was too fancy for just sitting around the house. He realized uneasily that she’d probably put in extra effort to look good for his arrival.

“Hi, Lindsay,” he said nervously.

“Hi,” she said, giving him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Michael hesitated, then gave her a quick hug, very conscious of their mother watching them. He didn’t dare kiss her on the cheek like he usually did. When he pulled away the stony expression on her face told him she’d noticed.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Great,” she said. He thought he heard a note of sarcasm in her voice, but he couldn’t be sure. He noticed that she was wearing the necklace he’d given her for their last birthday. Why was she still wearing that? Of course, she’d worn it every day before he left, but after everything that had happened it seemed like she was trying to send some kind of message. He felt extremely embarrassed about giving it to her. In hindsight it had probably been a manifestation of his unconscious attraction to her. He hoped no one else knew where she’d gotten it.

He looked up and saw Gob coming down the stairs. “Hey, Gob,” he said, grateful for the distraction. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lindsay quietly slip out of the room.


	27. Part 2, Chapter 4

**December, 1987**

[The](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwRXi8gEQtw) Bluth family sat around the living room on Christmas Eve watching Gob perform his Christmas-themed magic show, which was really just his normal magic show with a Santa hat and “Carol of the Bells” replacing “The Final Countdown” as the accompanying music. He’d seemed to care so much about it that they’d all reluctantly agreed to watch it, but Buster was the only one who seemed to be enjoying it. Gob had made so many mistakes that Lindsay was starting to feel bad for him, though she was having trouble paying much attention with Michael sitting next to her on the couch, conspicuously leaning away from her.

Gob concluded the show by making a dove appear in a puff of smoke. They applauded, mildly impressed.

“Wow, that was some trick,” Michael said.

“Illusion, Michael,” Lindsay said under her breath. He laughed. Lindsay’s heart skipped a beat.

Things hadn’t changed much since he’d come home for winter break two weeks earlier. The majority of it had passed much like Thanksgiving break, with both of them avoiding each other as much as possible. She’d been so angry that he’d made her be the one to call him first, frozen her out for so long that she couldn’t take it anymore, and his pathetic explanation that it was just because he was busy hadn’t helped. But her anger was starting to fade, or at least be overshadowed by her overwhelming desire to have him back in her life. She was just so lonely. She was willing to look past how he’d treated her over the last few months if it meant they could be friends again. She’d been trying to be friendlier to him over the last few days to show him this. It hadn’t done much good, but he did seem to be a little more comfortable around her now that they’d been in the same house again for two weeks.

The family got up and filtered out of the living room.

“Here, I’ll help with that,” Lindsay heard Michael say as she started up the stairs. She looked back and saw him helping Rosa pick up the various props Gob had left scattered on the floor. “You shouldn’t have to work on Christmas Eve, you should go home,” he said.

“It’s okay, I’m almost done,” she said. “I just need to do the dishes.”

“I’ll do those.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem. Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you, Michael,” she said, smiling warmly at him. Lindsay smirked. She knew how much Michael loved playing the hero. But it gave her an excellent opportunity to get closer to him. She went back into the living room.

“I’ll help, too,” she said.

“Oh. Thank you,” Rosa said, surprised.

“You’re welcome,” she said. Michael looked equally surprised, as well as a little apprehensive, but then he smiled at her. Lindsay smiled back and walked to the kitchen. Michael followed her. She opened the dishwasher and began unloading the dishes.

“Thanks for helping,” Michael said, joining her.

“No problem,” she said. They unloaded the dishes together in silence for a long time as she waited for him to say something.

“So you’re working on college applications now, right?” he finally said, a little forcedly.

“Yep.”

“How are those going?”

“Uh, okay. I haven’t really done as much as I should have, to tell you the truth.” She saw a look of disapproval flash across his face. “I mean, I’ve done some stuff, and I’ve got all my recommendations, I just need to the do the essays,” she said quickly, annoyed. “I’ve still got a week left, so I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he said, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. “If you want, I could help you with them.”

“Oh,” she said, her annoyance quickly overshadowed by her excitement at the prospect of spending some time alone with him. “Uh, yeah, that would be great.”

“Where are you applying?”

“Dominican, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I remember,” he said quickly.

“And some other places, too, of course,” she said, hurt.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, it would be nice to see you more,” he said, though she could tell he was nervous about the possibility.

“Yep,” she said, a little harshly. It had been his idea after all. She didn’t even want to go there that much, she was only hoping that living a little closer to him would help repair their relationship. They continued to unload the dishes, an uncomfortable silence now hanging between them.

 

* * *

 

[“Okay,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHualEY9DJs) here are the prompts for Dominican,” Lindsay said, walking over to the bed where Michael was sitting and handing him the packet. It was late and it was pouring rain outside the window of her bedroom. She sat down cross-legged next to him. “We’re supposed to choose one of them, and it has to be less than a page.”

“Describe a problem you’ve solved or would like to solve,” Michael read aloud. “It can be an intellectual challenge, a research query, an ethical dilemma, anything that is of importance, no matter the scale. Explain its significance to you and what steps you took or could be taken to identify a solution.”

He paused, trying to think of something she could write. Lindsay didn’t do much other than socializing and shopping. If he was being honest with himself he didn’t think any college would want her if they actually knew her, but he was trying to make them think that they did.

“Okay,” he said, moving on to the next question. “If you could spend a day with anyone, living, deceased, or imaginary, who would it be and why?” He looked up at her. “Any ideas?”

“Not really,” she said.

“Okay, we’ll try the next one,” he said, hoping she wasn’t expecting him to write the whole thing for her. “Describe a family, cultural, or personal tradition that is meaningful to you. Explain why.”

“Mother’s Day Eve,” she joked.

Michael laughed. “That sounds more like Buster than you.”

She laughed, too. “Yeah, I think the more we can leave our family out of it the better.”

“Good thinking. Okay, last one. Describe a challenge you have faced and overcome. How did you overcome it and what did you learn from the experience?” He paused, thinking about her battle with anorexia a year ago. That could actually make a good essay, but he felt uncomfortable bringing it up. “Do you have any ideas for that one?” he asked.

“None,” she groaned. “That was the last one?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh, what are we going to do?”

He hesitated. “Well, you do have a good story for that last one, with your eating disorder last year.” She looked up at him in surprise. “It’s just an idea, it’s fine if you don’t want to,” he said quickly, embarrassed.

She hesitated. “Uh, yeah, okay.”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I don’t have any other ideas.”

“Okay, great,” he said, still a little embarrassed. “So the question asks how you overcame it, so we should keep the focus on that. You can start by describing what happened, then say how you overcame it, and talk about what you learned from the experience in the conclusion.”

She smirked. “That my mom’s a bitch.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “Uh, let’s try to top that,” he said, laughing weakly.

She laughed. “I don’t think I ‘learned anything from the experience,’ the whole thing was just… I don’t know, I didn’t learn any meaningful lessons or anything.”

“That’s okay, we can work on that part later,” he said. “Let’s focus on the middle first, how you overcame it.”

“Umm…” she said, looking down and drumming her fingers on the bed. “I don’t know, I guess I just wanted everyone to stop worrying about me.” She laughed. “Well, I wanted you to stop worrying about me, no one else cared.”

“They did, once they realized how serious it was,” he said, feeling a rush of pity for her.

“Took them long enough,” she said, laughing humorlessly. “Um, yeah, so… So I didn’t want you to worry about me, and I was worried they’d put me in partial hospitalization if I didn’t get better. That’s not great for an essay, though. Uh… I also realized it was making me feel worse, I guess. I mean, I thought it was helping me, you know, making me feel better, but then I realized I felt worse than before. Is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, suddenly remembering they were working on an essay. “Yeah, that’s good.”

She gave him a small smile. He smiled back, guiltily thinking about how he’d been shutting her out over the last few months. But she was better now, that was a long time ago.

“I mean, the main reason I did it was so Mom would stop criticizing me all the time,” she said, picking up steam. She seemed to be somewhat enjoying herself now. “I thought if she could see how…how it was affecting me, that she’d feel guilty and stop. I know, it’s kind of ridiculous.”

“No,” Michael said quickly. “It’s completely understandable, she was horrible to you.”

“Thanks,” she said, with the same small smile. “So I was trying to get her to stop. And I also just wanted to be thinner. I mean, I know I wasn’t overweight, but…yeah, I don’t know. But then no one even noticed. Even when you told them they didn’t believe you. So I just kept going, and then it got to this point where I couldn’t stop. I don’t know, I guess it just felt nice to feel like…like I was doing something, I guess, I didn’t know what to do with myself when I stopped. I really did try at first. I don’t know if you believed me.”

“I believed you,” he said, remembering her tearfully telling him that in the basement a year ago. She smiled.

“So, how I got out of it… Yeah, I realized it was making me feel worse, so I wanted to stop. I was also just trying to get out of therapy. And…well, we got closer, and that kind of helped.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat. He thought about spending the night with her on Thanksgiving and everything that had followed that. She wasn’t going to bring that up, was she? She looked up at him. He quickly tried to hide his nervousness, but the hurt in her face told him she’d seen it.

“Well, you know, when I was having obsessive thoughts about my weight, talking to you would help distract me,” she said hastily. “And therapy, that helped, too. So yeah, let’s start writing.”

“Oh, okay,” Michael said, surprised by the abrupt change. He glanced over at her. She looked like she was trying not to cry.

“So for the introduction describe what happened?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, so we should try to come up with a good hook that kind of grabs your attention,” he said guiltily, still wrestling with the conflicting emotions he was feeling.

“Like what?”

“Uh, I don’t know, let me think,” he said, laughing uncomfortably. He tried to think of something, but he couldn’t focus, all he could think about was how terrified he’d been last year seeing her get thinner and thinner and having no idea how to help her. He looked discreetly over at her, trying to tell if she’d lost any weight since he’d left in August. He didn’t think she had, but he couldn’t be sure. “You’re—you’re doing okay now, right?” he asked tentatively.

She laughed. “Yeah.”

“You’re still going to therapy?”

“Oh, no, I don’t need it anymore.

“Oh,” Michael said, feeling increasingly concerned. “Carolyn said that?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said unconvincingly. “Well, you know, it was interfering with school. I’m fine now, really.”

“Okay,” Michael said uneasily. He hesitated. “You know, you can always call me if…if you need anything.” The look of disbelief she gave him filled with him shame. “I’m sorry I haven’t been calling you much,” he said earnestly. “I’ve missed you.”

He saw her face fill with emotion. She turned away. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said quietly.

“I just thought you didn’t want to talk to me, so I stopped calling, but…I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Just stop acting so nervous around me, okay?”

“I—I haven’t—” he stammered. She raised her eyebrows. He laughed uncomfortably and looked down. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Sorry.”

She smiled. “It’s okay.”


	28. Part 2, Chapter 5

**January, 1988**

“God, it’s so cold,” Lindsay said as she and Michael walked down the boardwalk, hunching her shoulders against the wind coming in off the water. “Frozen bananas may not have been the best choice.”

“Yeah, maybe not,” Michael laughed.

They’d just mailed in Lindsay’s college applications and gotten frozen bananas to celebrate. The banana stand was closed for the night, but Michael still had the key from when he’d worked there and they’d gotten in and made some for themselves. When Lindsay had said she hadn’t done as much as she should have on her college applications she’d meant that she hadn’t started, and the two of them had stayed up well past midnight on New Year’s Eve to make sure they mailed them by January 1st, the deadline for most of her applications.

“Whoo! We made it!” Lindsay said, looking up at the night sky and spinning around.

“Thank god,” Michael laughed. “Maybe don’t leave the rest until six days before the deadline?”

“I know, I know,” she sighed. Michael had done a good deal of complaining about staying up all night writing her essays, but she could tell he’d had as much fun as she had. She didn’t even care about the work, she was just so happy to be spending time with him again. “But I’m through the worst of it, only two left!”

“Yeah, definitely cause for celebration. I think they turned out pretty well.”

“Me, too! Thanks for helping.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling. She smiled back and sat down on a bench. He sat with her. She glanced over at him, thinking about how good it felt for things to be almost back to normal between them after these last few months.

“It’s nice having you here,” she said tentatively.

He smiled. “It’s nice being here.”

“When are you going back?”

“Sunday.”

“Sunday?” she repeated, horrified.

“Yeah, I thought you knew that.”

“No, I didn’t,” she said, not even bothering to hide her emotions. “That’s in two days!”

“Yeah,” he said, looking guilty. “Sorry, I thought you knew.”

“Damn it,” she said quietly. “When are you coming home again?”

“Summer.”

“You’re not coming home for spring break?”

“No,” he said, looking even guiltier. “Sorry, it’s just such a long drive. And the more time I can spend away from Mom and Dad the better.” He forced a laugh. She didn’t even smile. The same hurt and anger she’d been feeling for the last few months was suddenly returning. “Maybe I can come home for spring break, too,” he said. “It’s been nice spending time with you again.”

Her anger evaporated. “It’s been nice spending time with you, too,” she said.

She looked at the reflection of the pale white streetlights in the dark water below, trying to repress her disappointment that he was leaving so soon. They’d wasted most of the break barely speaking to each other, but over the last few days things had become almost like they used to be, and for the first time in months she didn’t feel like she was drowning. She couldn’t go back to that. But it would be different now, he would call her more, and maybe visit for spring break. And he would definitely be home for the summer, and if she got accepted into Dominican she’d go back with him in the fall and they’d visit each other every weekend like they’d planned. Maybe there was even still hope that he would change his mind. She still thought that if she had enough time she could convince him.

She looked over at him. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that he was looking at her, too. He quickly looked away, embarrassed. She hesitated, her heart beating quickly, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

He jumped back. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, I just—”

“You just what?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she said, her face turning pink.

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Jesus Christ, what is your problem?” she muttered angrily, looking down at her lap.

“Okay, sorry!” he said, sounding extremely embarrassed. She kept staring at her lap, blinking away tears of embarrassment and anger.

“Let’s go home,” she said harshly.

“Oh. Okay,” he said guiltily.

She got up and started walking quickly down the boardwalk. She didn’t look back to see if he was following her, she just wanted to make sure he didn’t see her crying.


	29. Part 2, Chapter 6

**March, 1988**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr8coEkYUHA) groaned as the phone on her nightstand rang, waking her up. She opened her eyes and immediately closed them again, her eyes stinging from the bright sunlight coming in through the window. She’d had way too much to drink the night before and now her head was aching. She’d had a lot of nights like that recently, having finally rebuilt her social life and found that getting blackout drunk at parties helped her a little with her loneliness. She rolled over and let the phone ring, intending to go back to sleep. Had her phone always been that loud? Who was calling at this time anyway?

She opened her eyes when she remembered it was Saturday. Michael always called her on Saturdays now. She hated that, that he had a designated day of the week when he had to call her so her feelings wouldn’t be hurt. Couldn’t he at least change the day every now and then so it wasn’t so obvious? But at least he was trying, and she couldn’t help it, she still liked talking to him.

She sat up and swayed a little, feeling nauseous. She looked at her alarm clock and saw that it was almost one o’ clock. She picked up the phone.

“Hello?” she said, trying to keep the grogginess out of her voice.

“Hey, Linds, it’s Michael.”

“Hi,” she said, sincerely regretting drinking so much as another wave of nausea hit her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, I just woke up.”

“Just now?”

“Yeah, I was out late last night. Party.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want me to call back later?”

“No, it’s fine. I should be getting up anyway.”

“Okay,” he laughed. “How was the party?”

“Uh…to be honest I barely remember it. I don’t even remember coming home, but I guess I’m here, so…”

“Wow. That sounds kind of dangerous.”

She laughed. “Relax, I’m fine. Just really, really hungover.”

“Okay. Just be careful, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.”

“Okay. How are things at home?”

“Uh…same as usual, I guess. Mom got her license suspended again so Gob and I have to take turns driving her everywhere, which is even more of a nightmare than you’d think. God, I miss you.”

He laughed nervously but didn’t say anything. She felt a flash of anger. He couldn’t even tell her he missed her anymore? She wished she hadn’t said that. It was true, she still missed him like crazy, but she didn’t want him to know that.

“So I’ve been seeing someone,” he said. His tone was casual but there was no mistaking the apprehension in his voice.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I really like her,” he continued. “She’s—”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” Lindsay interrupted.

“Oh. Uh, okay.”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m gonna go now,” she stammered, her voice shaking with anger.

“Oh. Wait, Lindsay—”

“No, I’m just—I’m done talking. Bye,” she said, and hung up.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eiXgHeYhPU) went to his closet to get his jacket and shoes to go to lunch. As he was pulling on his jacket the phone on his desk rang. He went over to the desk and picked it up.

“Hello?” he said, sitting down.

“Hey, it’s Linds.”

“Oh, hi,” Michael said, startled. They hadn’t spoken since yesterday when she’d hung up on him. He felt kind of guilty, as he had stretched the truth a little. He had gone on two dates with a girl he’d met in his economics class, but they weren’t really in a relationship yet. He had hoped that if Lindsay thought he’d moved on it would convince her to give up on him. He hadn’t expected her to take it so badly. He was glad his roommate wasn’t there, as he had no idea how this was going to go.

“I’ve got some big news,” she said.

“Really, what is it?” he said, slightly alarmed by the forced cheerfulness in her voice.

“I’m going to LSU.”

“What?”

“I got accepted last week and I decided I’m going to go there.”

“LSU as in Louisiana State University?”

“Yeah, I don’t think there are any other LSU’s.”

“I thought you wanted to go to Dominican,” he said, bewildered. “Did you not get accepted?”

“No, I haven’t heard back from them yet. But either way I’m going to choose LSU so it doesn’t really matter.”

“But…why?”

“Dominican’s just so small. I don’t think it’s a good fit for me. LSU will be a lot more fun.”

“I didn’t even know you were applying there,” he said, still trying to make sense of this.

“Yeah, the deadline was a little later than the others so I did that one after you left.”

“It’s so far away.”

“Yeah, but I think it will be kind of nice to get away from home, you know?”

There was a little too much smugness in her tone. Was she doing this because she was mad at him?

“I was looking forward to you going to Dominican, so we could see each other more,” he said, thinking she couldn’t possibly be basing her entire college decision on trying to get back at him, but this was so out of the blue.

“Oh yeah. I’ll still visit, though, and we can talk on the phone,” she said. She was barely concealing the vindictiveness in her voice now. Michael didn’t say anything for a moment, taken aback.

“Are you…mad at me?” he said finally.

“What?” she laughed. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Yesterday, when we talked—”

“You have a girlfriend,” she interrupted. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” he said. This was insane, she was insane.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, I tell you I’m seeing someone, you hang up on me, and the next day you tell me out of the blue that you’re moving across the country?”

“Really, you think I’m choosing it just to get back at you?” she said coolly.

“That’s what it looks like!” he said angrily.

“I  _want_  to go there, I never even wanted to go to Dominican!” she exploded. “I was only going to so I could be closer to you, but I don’t want that anymore!”

“Because I have a girlfriend? For god’s sake, Lindsay, I’m your brother!”

“I don’t care about that, I told you!”

“Then why are you doing this?!”

“I don’t care that you have a girlfriend, you asshole! I’m mad at you because I told you I missed you and you seemed to think that I—that I still had feelings for you or something, and then you go and tell you me you’re seeing someone like you’re trying to—I mean, what  _was_  that?! I can’t even tell you I miss you anymore, after everything—”

She broke off. She sounded like she was trying not to cry. The silence hung in the air as Michael scrambled for something to say.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I was just telling you because it’s something that’s going on in my life, that’s all it was,” he said desperately.

“That was not all it was,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, I…I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but…you can’t base your whole college decision on that—”

“I’m not, I never wanted to go to Dominican, okay?!” she said furiously. “Jesus, I was just calling to tell you I was going there and you turn it into this whole—Whatever, I’m done talking to you, bye,” she said, and hung up.


	30. Part 2, Chapter 7

**June, 1988**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lv5qN4Qn9ss) stared determinedly out the car window at the rows of traffic on the freeway, trying with difficulty to ignore the fact that Lindsay’s thigh was pressed up against his. He was home for the summer and the family was driving to Uncle Jack’s for his 75th birthday. As usual, the four Bluth kids were crammed in the backseat, and by some cruel twist of fate he and Lindsay had ended up next to each other. They’d spent the entire drive leaning away from each other as much as they could, but they couldn’t keep their legs from touching.

George Sr. leaned closer to Lucille and said under his breath, “So you’re prepared to, uh…” He glanced back at the kids and continued in an even lower voice, “…take another bullet for the Bluth Company?”

Lucille rolled her eyes. “Yes, George, I know the plan.”

Michael ignored this. They always talked like this when they visited Uncle Jack. He assumed they were stealing money from him somehow but he didn’t want to know the specifics. He looked hopelessly out at the traffic, which was now at a standstill. Would this drive ever end? His back was starting to hurt from leaning away from Lindsay.

Things were more awkward than ever between them. She’d hardly spoken to him since he’d come home a week ago, and when she did it was only to criticize whatever he was doing. He’d also noticed that she’d finally stopped wearing the necklace he’d given her, though that was somewhat of a relief.

He still felt bad for her, but she was making it increasingly difficult to. He knew he should have called her more after he left for college, but he’d apologized and called her every week after winter break until she blew it all up. When he tried to be friends again she kissed him, when he tried to get her to move on she decided to move to the other side of the country in revenge. He just wanted things to be normal again between them but she wasn’t letting him. Now she was using every opportunity she had to make it clear that she was furious with him, when all he’d done was date someone else and tell her about it. Every time someone mentioned LSU it just reminded him how angry at her he was. He couldn’t believe she would do something so crazy, but she’d officially accepted it now and was preparing to go there in August.

The one positive was that it was helping him get over her. He’d dated a couple girls since he left home, but as hard as he tried not to he couldn’t stop comparing them to Lindsay, and he hadn’t had any real feelings for either of them. In fact, he’d broken up with the one he’d told Lindsay about partly because she reminded him too much of her, and he’d realized with horror that he might have unconsciously been attracted to her for that reason. But now he was so angry at Lindsay that it was getting much easier to move on.

George Sr. looked back at him. “Hey, Michael, do we need to fill out any forms for your housing next year?”

“I’ve already taken care of it,” Michael said.

“Of course you have,” Lindsay muttered sarcastically.

“What, should I have left it ‘til the last minute like you always do?” he retorted. Lindsay scowled. Michael went back to looking out the window.


	31. Part 2, Chapter 8

**August, 1988**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACPG9_01srI) looked out the airplane window at the morning fog over Los Angeles. Her parents had just dropped her off at the airport and she was on her way to Baton Rouge. To her surprise, Michael had gotten up early to go the airport with her. She suspected it was out of guilt. They were much less hostile to each other now than they had been at the beginning of the summer, but there was still a tangible distance between them. But any good feelings toward him that this kind gesture had created were quickly dispelled by the stiff and impersonal way in which he’d hugged her goodbye.

She still wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision in choosing LSU over Dominican. She had chosen it mainly to get back at him, but she’d meant it when she said she thought it would be a better fit for her. She’d been considering choosing it for months before Michael had told her he was dating someone else, but she’d been unable to let go of her fantasy of visiting each other every weekend and going to parties together and maybe eventually rekindling their relationship of last year. But it was becoming increasingly clear that that wasn’t going to happen, and she didn’t want to be near him if things were going to stay like this. She couldn’t deny that she was still in love with him, or at least that she still desperately missed how things had been a year ago, but that was over whether she wanted it to be or not, and she was so tired of being in love with someone that was determined to suppress any feelings he had for her. She’d wasted her entire senior year of high school missing him and she didn’t want to spend her freshman year of college the same way. She’d been so miserable for so long, and she was hoping leaving her family and going to college would be the fresh start she needed. Part of her still hoped Michael would change his mind. She knew in spite of herself that she’d take him back in a second if he did. But for now she just didn’t want to think about him for a while.


	32. Part 2, Chapter 9

**January, 1989**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EtnwGXdPsDk) walked through the hallway of the business building, looking at the room numbers as he passed. It was the first day of winter term and he was about to start his intermediate accounting class. He found the right room and went in.

As he scanned the room for an open seat he recognized a girl in the second row. He laughed to himself. A couple months ago he’d found a spot he liked in the library and started doing all his studying there. Soon afterwards he’d noticed that someone else seemed to have chosen the spot a few tables away as her favorite. No matter what time of day or night he went there it seemed like she was always there, bent over a book and rapidly scribbling notes in her notebook, a curtain of red hair hiding her face. The more he saw her the more he wanted to get to know her, but he’d so far been unable to come up with a natural way to introduce himself. On a whim he crossed the room and took the seat next to her. He bent down to take his notebook and pencil out of his backpack, trying to think of something to say to her, but she beat him to it.

“Hey, you’re the guy from the library,” she said.

“Oh yeah,” he said, caught off guard. “Yeah, I’ve seen you there too.”

“It looks like we have the same favorite spot,” she said. She was wearing a bright red sweater that clashed with her hair.

“Yeah, it’s a good one, with all the sun…” What was wrong with him? “So are you a business major, too?” he said quickly, trying to cover up the awkwardness.

“Accounting and finance.”

“Wow, double major. No wonder you’re in the library all the time.”

She laughed. He felt another rush of embarrassment. Did it seem weird that he’d noticed how much she was in the library?

“Yeah, I am there a lot,” she said. “Seems like you are, too.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he laughed, feeling a little better. The professor entered the room and the noise died down.

“I’m Tracey, by the way,” the girl said.

“Michael,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

 

* * *

 

“Financial statements generally include which of the following?” Tracey read from the practice test, sitting across from Michael in the study room in the library. “A, income statement. B, balance sheet. C, federal income tax return. D, statement of cash flows.”

“C,” Michael said. She checked the answer sheet.

“Yep.”

Michael took the practice test from her and read. “Which of the following characteristics does not describe a liability? A, result of a past transaction. B, probable. C, present obligation. D, must be legally enforceable.”

“D,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

After embarrassing himself during their initial meeting Michael had been determined to redeem himself, and he’d sat next to Tracey again the next day. The second try had gone much more smoothly than the first, and the third even better than that, and for two weeks now they’d been sitting next to each other every class. He’d been arriving earlier and earlier so he would have more time to talk to her, and to his delight so had she, until they were both arriving almost ten minutes early every day. At the end of the most recent class she’d invited him to study with her for an upcoming test, which he’d of course eagerly accepted. He’d studied a lot beforehand in order to impress her, but to his surprise she was doing just as well as he was, if not better. She’d sped through the math section like lightning earlier and he was starting to feel a little frustrated, though impressed at the same time.

“A gain or loss should be reported on an income statement as an extraordinary item if it is due to a transaction considered…” she read. “A, to favorably affect taxes. B, extraordinarily large in amount. C, expected to materially impact the financial condition of the company. D, unusual in nature and infrequent in occurrence.”

“D.”

“Mm hm.”

“In general, revenue is recognized when the earnings process is virtually complete and: A, production is completed. B, a purchase order is received. C, cash is collected. D, collection of the sales price is reasonably assured.”

“D.”

“Yep,” he said, relieved he hadn’t gotten that one. He would have picked C.

“A transaction that is unusual, but not infrequent, should be reported separately as a: A, extraordinary item, net of applicable income taxes. B, extraordinary item, but not net of applicable income taxes. C, component of income from continuing operations, net of applicable income taxes. D, component of income from continuing operations, but not net of applicable income taxes.”

“Uh…” Michael said, trying to remember the reading he’d done the night before. He knew it was C or D, but he couldn’t remember if it was net of applicable income taxes or not. “D,” he guessed.

“Yeah, good job.”

“Thanks,” he said, relieved. “Okay, the underlying assumption that presumes a company will continue indefinitely is: A, going concern. B, periodicity. C, economic entity. D, monetary unit.”

Tracey hesitated. Michael wondered if he’d finally stumped her.

“A,” she said.

Michael checked the answer sheet. “Yep, that’s right.”

She smiled. “Okay, so for the next one you’re supposed to look at these numbers and find the accounts receivable turnover.”

“Okay,” Michael said, taking the test from her. Yes, he knew how to do this. He rapidly calculated the answer, trying to beat her time from earlier.

“8.33,” he said.

“No, sorry, it’s ten.”

“What?”

She took the test from him and looked over his work. “Oh, it was just a little mistake. See, you wrote 600,000 here instead of 500,000.”

Michael looked at it. “Oh yeah,” he said, cursing himself for not checking his work.

“Everything else was right, though,” she said. “Okay, so now I find the shareholder’s equity…”

Michael took the answer sheet as she solved the problem. This was the last one. Part of him was hoping she would get it wrong to validate his own wrong answer, but he also kind of wanted to see if she could continue her streak. Either way he was very impressed. And she looked so cute squinting her blue eyes in concentration at the paper as she quickly wrote down her calculations, tucking her hair behind her ear so it wouldn’t get in the way.

“Twenty-five percent,” she said.

Michael laughed. “Right again.”

She laughed too, looking pleased with herself. “Well, I guess that’s it. Thanks for studying with me.”

“No problem. It looks like you’re plenty ready for tomorrow.”

“You too!”

“Thanks,” he laughed.

“Well, I’d better get going or I’ll be late for work.”

“Okay,” Michael said as she packed up her books. “Where do you work?”

“The Cheeseboard Pizza.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, recognizing the name.

“Have you been there?”

“No, but I’ve heard it’s good.”

“It is, you should stop by sometime.”

“Yeah, I should,” he said. He should ask her now, she was about to leave.

“Well, good luck on the test tomorrow,” she said, putting on her backpack.

“Thanks, you too,” he said, panicking. “Wait,” he said, standing up as she opened the door. “I, uh, I was wondering if you might want to go do something sometime. Maybe dinner or something?”

She grinned. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great,” he said, relieved. “Are you free on Friday?”

“Yeah, I have work until six, but after that is fine.”

“Great.”

“Yeah,” she said, still smiling widely. “Well, I’d better go. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you,” he said, unable to stop himself from grinning as well.

 

* * *

 

[“Do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOEcfANgqBA) you want to play some music?” Michael asked Tracey as he drove them home from their date. He’d taken her to a fancy dinner in San Francisco, hoping to impress her, followed by a walk through the gardens at the Palace of Fine Arts. He wished he’d been a little less awkward on a handful of occasions, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Sure,” she replied.

Michael turned on the radio. “What station do you like to listen to?” he asked.

“Um, I like 95.7.”

“Okay,” he said, turning to the station. He was surprised to hear country music playing.

“Do you like country music?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah,” he lied. “Love it.”

“Really?” she said excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“Who’s your favorite artist?”

“Oh… Uh, it’s so hard to choose just one…”

She smirked. “You don’t actually listen to it, do you?”

He laughed sheepishly. “Not really. I do like it though, I just don’t listen to it very often.” She laughed. “Where did you say you were from again?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Alturas.”

“Oh yeah, in Northern California, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in the Northeastern corner, near Nevada.”

“What is it like? I’ve never been there.”

“Yeah, most people haven’t,” she laughed. “Uh, it’s very small, rural, in the middle of nowhere. Kind of the opposite of LA.”

He laughed. He’d told her he was from Los Angeles instead of Newport Beach, not wanting her to think he was some spoiled rich kid. “It must have been a big change coming here, then,” he said.

“Yeah, it was definitely a shock. I’d only left the county twice before then.”

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah. It’s a big county, but still…”

He laughed. “Which do you like better, here or Alturas?”

“Here. No question.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Alturas can get kind of boring. There’s so much more to do here, and all kinds of people. I really like going to Cal, too. What about you, do you prefer Berkeley or Los Angeles?”

“Hm… I don’t know. I guess Los Angeles. It’s nice to be away from home, though.”

“Yeah, that’s the biggest thing for me, too,” she said emphatically.

“What’s your family like?” he asked, thinking it couldn’t possibly be worse than his.

“Uh, it’s just me and my mom. We’re not very close.”

“I’m not very close with my mom, either.”

“Hm,” she said. Michael drove onto the campus and started heading towards her dorm. “How many people are in your family?” Tracey asked.

“Six including me. Three siblings, plus my mom and dad.”

“Oh, I always wanted siblings.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not missing much.”

She laughed. “Are they older or younger?”

“I’m in the middle. One older brother, one younger brother, and a twin sister.”

“You’re a twin?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she go to Cal?”

“No, she’s in Louisiana, actually. She’s going to LSU.”

“Oh. Wow, that’s so far.”

“Yeah…”

“Do you wish she was closer or did you want to go to different schools?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I guess it’s just kind of how it worked out.” He didn’t know how he felt about Lindsay anymore. Enough time had passed that he wasn’t mad at her, but they never called other anymore. He arrived at Tracey’s dorm and stopped.

“Well, I guess this is me,” she said. “Thanks for taking me out. I had a great time.”

“Me too,” Michael said sincerely. He hesitated, his heart beating faster. It was only their first date, but he’d never felt so drawn to someone so quickly. Before he could change his mind he leaned over and kissed her. She jumped a little in surprise, making him instantly regret his decision, but then she kissed him back with surprising enthusiasm. He breathed an inward sigh of relief and deepened the kiss, putting his hand in her pretty red hair. She sat up in her seat to get closer to him. He did the same, breathing in the smell of her perfume, like vanilla and flowers, a little surprised by how well this was going.

They jumped at the sound of a car honking and pulled away from each other. He looked back and saw that there was a car waiting behind them.

“Whoops,” Tracey laughed, a little breathlessly. She quickly got out of the car. “Well, good night.”

“Good night,” he laughed, a little dizzy himself. She shut the door behind her. He quickly started driving, glancing back at her as she walked away.


	33. Part 2, Chapter 10

**March, 1989**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlzuRukhmSE) walked down the sidewalk past the various shops and restaurants in North Berkeley towards the pizza place where Tracey worked. It was a Friday evening and he wanted to take her out to dinner. He reached the pizza place and saw Tracey at the cash register through the window. She smiled and waved when she saw him. He waved back and sat down at one of the tables outside and waited for her shift to end, enjoying the warm spring air.

He and Tracey had been dating for almost two months now. The more he got to know her the more excited about this new relationship he became. She was so different from everyone else in his life, so genuine and down-to-earth. He loved the slight accent in her high, airy voice and the way she talked about Berkeley like it was a big city, how she was the first person in her family to go to college and how she’d gotten into UC Berkeley solely through her own determination and hard work. She was certainly hardworking. It seemed like every minute of the day she was either studying or working at the pizza place. It was a bit of a problem since she rarely had time for dates, but they had a lot of fun staying up late studying together.

He looked up as the door opened and saw Tracey walking towards him. “Hi,” she said, smiling that big, adorable smile of hers.

“Hi,” he said, standing up and kissing her. He had to bend down, as she was at least six inches shorter than him. “How was your day?”

“Long. How was yours?”

“Not bad. Better now.”

She laughed and raised her eyebrows. He laughed, too, and they started walking in the direction of campus. The evening sky cast a purple light on the buildings and sidewalks. Tracey took a water bottle out of her purse. “Here, I got this for us,” she said.

“Oh. Okay.”

She laughed. “It’s vodka.”

“Oh,” he laughed, surprised. “Great.”

She took a drink and gave it to him. He took it from her and drank. One thing he’d learned in the last two months was that Tracey was a surprisingly heavy drinker, something that didn’t seem to fit with her sweet appearance but had certainly led to some fun times together. “Where do you want to go for dinner?” he asked.

“Oh, I thought we were just eating on campus.”

“No, it’s Friday, I want to take you somewhere special.”

“Ooh, okay. Um, I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

“No, you choose, you’ve had a long day.”                 

“As long as it’s not pizza I’m fine with anything.”

“Well, you’ve got to be more specific than that. What’s your favorite food?”

She laughed. “Well, I doubt any restaurants serve them, but that would have to be sno balls.”

“Sorry?”

“You know, sno balls? Those little cake things with the coconut and the marshmallow filling?” He shook his head. “You’ve never had them?” she said incredulously.

“No, I don’t think so,” he laughed.

“Oh, you’ve got to try them. We should get some after dinner.”

“Okay, sure,” he laughed.

 

* * *

 

Michael walked through the aisles of the gas station he and Tracey had gone to after dinner, scanning the shelves for the sno balls. They’d drunk quite a bit of her water bottle of vodka and they were both a little tipsy.

“Found them!” Tracey said from the next aisle over. Michael went over to join her.

“Oh yeah,” he said, seeing the plastic packages of coconut-covered cakes. He reached for a package of green ones.

“No, you gotta get the pink ones,” she said.

“Is there a difference?”

“Yeah, the pink ones are better!”

“Okay,” he laughed, putting them back and getting the pink ones instead. Tracey got another package for herself and they walked towards the counter.

“I’ll pay for these,” Tracey said.

“No, that’s okay.”

“You paid for dinner.”

“It’s fine, really, it’s probly only like a dollar, anyway—hey!” he said as she took the sno balls out of his hands. He laughed as she ran to the counter and put them down.

“We’ll, uh, we’ll take these,” she giggled.

“That’ll be one fifteen,” the cashier said, looking a little annoyed. Tracey blushed and quickly took the money out of her purse, struggling with the zipper.

“Do you want a receipt?” he asked.

“No, that’s okay. Thanks!” She took the sno balls and she and Michael walked outside. It was dark now and the air was cooler, though still pleasant. “Where should we eat these?” Tracey asked.

“Uh, d’you wanna go back to campus?”

“Sure.” They started walking in the direction of the campus. As they were walking they passed a house with a Bluth Company sign in the yard. “Hey, Bluth, like your name,” Tracey said, pointing to it.

“Oh yeah…” Michael said. He hadn’t told her what his father did for a living, a little nervous after some of her disdainful comments about the ‘richies’ in their accounting class. He quickly tried to decide if he could get away with not telling her now.

“That’s funny, I’ve never met anyone else with that name,” she said.

Michael hesitated. She would probably find out eventually anyway. “That’s actually my dad’s company,” he said tentatively. She laughed, seeming to think he was joking. He grimaced.

“Wait, seriously?” she said.

“Yeah…”

“Your dad’s company, like—like he started it?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god, are you rich?”

He laughed embarrassedly. “Uh, I guess relatively speaking…”

She guffawed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno, it just never came up.”

She laughed again. “Oh my god, I’m dating a richie,” she said. “What’re my friends back home gonna think?”

“Okay, I get it,” he laughed. She laughed, too. They were on campus now.

“Well, that explains a lot,” she said.

“Like what?” he laughed, a little indignantly.

“Like—like our first date, when you spent all that money on dinner. I was like, ‘Wow, he must really like me.’”

“I do really like you.”

“Aww, I really like you, too. But serusly, that was a lot to spend on a first date.” Michael thought back to their first date. He’d been trying to impress her, but he didn’t think it had been anything too outlandish. “Here, this is a good spot,” she said, going over to an out-of-the-way bench under a tree. Michael sat down with her and they opened the sno balls.

“I’m excited to try these,” he said.

“You should be, they’re amazing.” She took a bite and closed her eyes. “Mmm, so good.”

Michael took a bite of his. It was very sweet. He didn’t see what the big deal was.

“Whadya think?” she said excitedly.

“It’s good. Yeah, really good.”

She laughed. “You liar.”

“No, really!”

She laughed again. “Sno balls and vodka, you must think I’m so classy. Is this what you eat in the Bluth household?”

“Well, we do have a lot of vodka.”

“Really?” she laughed.

“Yeah. Espeshy my mom, I think she’s an alcoholic.”

“Hey, me too!”

“What?”

“My mom, she’s an alcoholic, too.”

“Oh,” he laughed, not sure how to respond to that.

“Well, I guess we have one thing in common,” she said.

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re so great,” Michael said sleepily, looking up at the blossoms in the tree above them glowing in the light of the streetlight. They were lying on the bench with his arms around her, the empty water bottle and sno ball packages lying on the ground beside them.

“ _You’re_  so great,” she said. He smiled.

“No, I mean, you’re so… so  _diffrent_ , from anyone I know.”

“Diffrent how?”

“Like…like you’re so… _real_  and…and down-to-earth…”

She laughed. “You mean redneck?”

“No. No, I’m sorry. I’m really wasted, nothin’s comin’ out right.”

“Me too,” she laughed, rolling onto her side to face him. “No, it’s sweet.  _You’re_  sweet.” She kissed him. “I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.”

“Mm,” she laughed, and kissed him again. She pulled away and lay back down on the bench. Michael looked up at the night sky again and tried to commit this moment to memory, the warm fuzzy feeling of the alcohol and the cool night air and the softness of her body against his. He wondered hopefully if the night would end with them having sex. They hadn’t done anything beyond making out yet.

“My gramma used to get these for me,” Tracey mumbled, hanging her arm off the bench and fiddling with a sno ball wrapper on the ground. “We’d go swimming on Saturday and get these after.”

“What’s she like?” Michael asked curiously. Tracey hadn’t mentioned any family members besides her mother, and even her she’d only talked very sparingly about.

“She was nice,” Tracey said. “She died when I was fourteen. Cancer.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Michael said awkwardly, having trouble figuring out what to say to that in his drunken state.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “But yeah, we were close. She was much better than my mom.”

“What’s your mom like?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. Tracey laughed.

“Awful. I haven’t even talked to her in two years, since I left home.”

“Not even once?” he said, surprised.

“Yeah. It’s better that way, I’m happier without her.” She laughed. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“No, I’m sure you have a good reason.”

“Yeah… She’s just…not a good mom. I was always on my own, she didn’t care what I did. I bet she doesn’t even care that I haven’t called her, she’s prolly glad to be rid of me. I’m glad to be rid of her too, leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me,” she said bitterly. She laughed. “Sorry, that was a lotta complaining. I get angry when I’m drunk.”

He laughed. “No, it’s fine. Sorry you had to deal with that.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“What about your dad?” he asked, thinking he should really stop asking all these personal questions but unable to stop himself. He loved hearing about her life before she came to Berkeley.

“Never met him. According to my mom he’s some famous actor or director or something. Don’ remember who. I doubt it’s true anyway. But enough about  _me_ ,” she said, snuggling up to him again. “What about you, what’s your mom like?”

“Uh... You wouldn’t like her.”

“Why not?” she laughed.

“She’s just…unpleasant. She drinks a lot, plays mind games with us, yells at our housekeeper…”

“You have a  _housekeeper_?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he laughed embarrassedly, wishing he hadn’t mentioned that.

“Does she, like, live with you?”

“No, she goes home at night,” he said indignantly.

“Oh my  _god_ ,” she laughed. “Sorry, continue.”

“Oh, I’m done.”

“ _Nooo,_  I didn’t mean to, like, belittle your problems or anything, your mom sounds bad too.”

He laughed. “No, she’s not  _that_ bad. She has good moments. She’s worse to my sister.”

“Your twin?”

“Yeah, Lindsay. She was awful to her, always criticizing her, saying she was overweight. Which she wasn’t, she was way too thin. She got anorexia it got so bad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And she  _still_  kept saying she ate too much. My mom, I mean,” he said, enjoying having someone to complain to.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. The rest of my family wasn’t any help either, they didn’t even notice. I kept telling them but they didn’t believe me until she passed out.” He stopped, suddenly realizing Lindsay probably wouldn’t want him sharing this information, especially not with his girlfriend.

“That must’ve been scary,” Tracey said.

“Yeah,” he said uncomfortably, guiltily thinking about how Lindsay would react if she knew about this.

“When was this?” Tracey asked.

“Uh, two years ago. Or three, I guess,” he said. Had it really been almost three years? “I probly shouldn’t be telling you about it actually, she might not want me to.”

“Oh. Yeah,” she said. She looked away, seemingly lost in thought. Michael looked up at the sky again, struggling to do the math to figure out if it really had been three years. How long had it been since he’d last talked to Lindsay? Not since Christmas when they’d both been home, and he couldn’t remember talking to her on the phone at all in the last year. He hoped she was doing okay in Louisiana, he was feeling a little guilty now about how far they’d drifted apart.

Suddenly Tracey turned back to him and kissed him. He laughed in surprise and kissed her back. She deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He did the same and pulled her closer to him, loving how small and delicate she felt in his arms. She pulled away.

“My roommate’s gone, d’you wanna go back to my room?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” he said immediately.

She laughed. “Okay, let’s go.”


	34. Part 2, Chapter 11

**July, 1989**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGqBM_r932s) sat impatiently outside a movie theater near downtown Los Angeles, waiting for her boyfriend, Scott, who was supposed to have met her there ten minutes ago. The night was oppressively hot and she could feel her leather mini skirt sticking to her skin. Where the hell was he? He could just be stuck in traffic, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been late.

She was back in Los Angeles for the summer, possibly for longer. College had not worked out like she’d hoped. The worst part was that it hadn’t failed to meet her expectations in any way. She’d made friends quickly, gone to wild parties every weekend like she’d always fantasized about, had several flings with the kinds of guys that used to make her go crazy, but she still felt so frustratingly empty. And on top of that she’d failed half her classes. She’d been putting in even less effort than she had in high school, only bothering to show up to class half the time, and sometimes not even that.

Things had improved a little since she’d come home for the summer in May. She’d met a great guy (though that relationship was quickly turning sour), and her father had given her a summer job at the Bluth Company. She’d quickly figured out that he would pay her whether she showed up or not, and it was nice to have the extra spending money. She was starting to think she might not go back to college in the fall. The money from her new job was almost enough for a decent apartment in Los Angeles and her parents would probably supplement the rest, so she could still live by herself and feel like she had some independence. What was the point in wasting another three years in college when she already had a job?

Another plus was that Michael was gone. He’d visited for a week in June, but then he’d gone right back to take classes over the summer. Something about the way he’d talked about it made her think he was hiding something, but she couldn’t imagine what. She didn’t care as long as he wasn’t here. Things were pretty much back to normal between them now, but she still didn’t like being around him. She didn’t like how okay he seemed to be without her, and part of her was still stinging from what had happened two years ago. When he was gone she at least didn’t think about it so much.

She checked her watch. Fifteen minutes now. Had he actually forgotten? Her patience with him was already dangerously low. Their relationship had started out so well, but ever since his ex-girlfriend had returned from her semester abroad he’d seemed much more interested in spending time with her. Lindsay had made her objections to this very clear, but every time he brushed her off, saying they were just friends and that she was overreacting. She stood up and huffily walked over to a payphone. This was getting ridiculous. She quickly paid and dialed the number, a little too forcefully, then put the receiver to her ear and waited. He might not be home. He  _shouldn’t_  be home, he should be on his way here.

“Hello?” she heard Scott say, sending a flash of anger through her.

“Hi, it’s Lindsay,” she said stiffly.

“Oh, shit, I was supposed to meet you. I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.”

“Is that Lindsay?” she heard a female voice say in the background.

“Is Laura with you?!” Lindsay said incredulously.

“Oh, yeah, we were just hanging out—”

“Oh my god!” Lindsay said in disbelief. “You know what? We’re done!”

“What? Lindsay—” he started to say, but she hung up dramatically before he could finish.

[She](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BLj52FUxQRs) stood there for a moment, blood pounding in her ears, relishing the feeling of self-righteous indignation. She vaguely registered the sound of chanting in the distance among the sounds of the traffic but she didn’t pay any attention to it. She went back to the bench and sat down. She sat there for a while, trying to figure out where to go now. She didn’t want to go home, the thought was too depressing. She could still go to the movie, but going by herself would be even sadder than spending the rest of the night at home.

Maybe she shouldn’t have done that. He was an asshole, but at least he’d made her feel wanted and distracted her a little from her loneliness. Or at least he used to, until that ugly bitch had come home. Her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away in annoyance, trying not smudge her makeup. The bastard didn’t deserve her. But the thought just made her cry more because she didn’t believe it. She couldn’t call him back and tell him she’d changed her mind, she at least had enough pride that she couldn’t stomach that, but she didn’t know what to do now, he’d been the one bright spot in her life these last few months.

The chanting grew louder. She looked up and saw people marching down the street carrying signs. It looked like some kind of protest. She watched them curiously as they walked down the street towards her. On a whim she got up and walked over to them.

“Hey, excuse me,” she said to one of the protesters at the edge of the crowd. He stopped and looked over at her. “What are you protesting?” she asked him.

“Uhh…” he said, looking a little lost. “Let’s see, it was…” He looked up at the posters. “Nelson Mandela. Yes, that’s it, that’s what he said…”

“Really,” she said, trying to act interested. All she knew about Nelson Mandela was that he had something to do with Africa and that she should know more about him.

“Yes,” he said. He grabbed a flier from one of the protesters and gave it to her. “Here, you can read all about it here.”

Lindsay took the flier and quickly skimmed it, gleaning that Nelson Mandela had been in prison for twenty-six years for protesting against racism or something and President Bush wasn’t doing anything about it. “This is terrible!” she said.

“Yes, yes, terrible,” he said distractedly, looking through the crowd. He seemed to be looking for someone.

“You know what? I’m going to join you guys,” Lindsay said. She didn’t have anything else to do, and this looked like it could be fun.

“Oh,” he said. “Great, thank you.” Lindsay began walking alongside the protesters. He did, too, still looking through the crowd. He went up to a tall, well-built man in the crowd and touched his shoulder. “Brad? Is that you?” he said. The protester turned around. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Who are you looking for?” Lindsay asked.

“A friend. Or acquaintance, I suppose. Hopefully soon-to-be friend,” he said, crossing his fingers. “I overheard him saying he would be here, but I haven’t seen him yet…”

“Do you do these protest things often?”

“Uh…yeah, you could say that.”

“That’s so cool,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said, brightening with the praise. “Yes, I try to, you know, do my part to make a difference.”

“That’s great. I’ve always been very political myself,” she said importantly. This was stretching the truth to the breaking point—the only time she could remember even watching the news was when she’d had to for a project in order to pass eighth grade social studies. But she’d always liked to think of herself as the liberal one in the family, and she was impressed with this group and wanted to fit in with them. “I’m Lindsay, by the way,” she said, offering her hand. He shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “My name is Tobias, Tobias Fünke.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said. She listened to hear what the protesters were saying and joined in. She vaguely noticed that her feet were hurting in her heels, but she didn’t care. She was actually really enjoying herself now. She liked feeling like she was a part of something important, and the energy of the crowd was infectious. Maybe this night hadn’t been such a waste after all. “Tell me more about yourself,” she said to Tobias, looking at him more closely. He looked a little older than her, probably mid-twenties.

“Oh,” he said. “Well, I’m a medical student at UCLA.”

“Wow, that’s awesome,” she said, feeling less impressive by the second.

“Thank you,” he said, clearly pleased by her reaction. “Yes, I’m training to be a sort of hybrid analyst and therapist. I’ll be the first ever, it’s kind of a groundbreaking thing. I’ve been trying to come up with a catchy name for it.”

“That sounds really interesting.”

“Why, thank you. It really is a fascinating field, if you’d like to hear more about it.”

“I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

“That was so fun!” Lindsay said. She and Tobias were sitting on the steps outside the courthouse. The protest had just ended.

“It  _was_  fun,” Tobias agreed, still looking a little lost but like he was enjoying himself nonetheless. Lindsay smiled at him. She wanted to see him again. He wasn’t exactly her type, a little out of shape and already going bald, but he wasn’t bad-looking, and she was so impressed by his ambitious career goals and interest in social justice, and a little turned on by the idea of dating someone so much older than her. She thought about how much this night had turned around. She wished Scott could see her now.

“Hey, do you want to get together sometime?” she said impulsively.

“Get together?”

“Yeah, you know…” she said, smiling shyly at him. “Like a date.”

Tobias’s eyes widened. “A date,” he repeated. “With me?”

“Yes, with you!” Lindsay laughed.

“Uh…okay, yes. Yes!” he said, looking more confused than ever. It was very endearing, and flattering, too.

“Great. Here.” Lindsay took a pen and a stray receipt out of her purse and wrote her phone number on it. She handed it to him. “So I’ll see you around?”

“Yes. Yes, you will,” he said enthusiastically.

“Great,” she said, smiling flirtatiously, and flounced away.


	35. Part 2, Chapter 12

**September, 1989**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpXMTLqKCr0) bent over his accounting textbook, teeth clenched in annoyance as his new roommate crunched distractingly on his lunch, the remains of which he was sure to leave out for days unless Michael intervened. His junior year had just begun and he was rooming with his friend, who had turned out to be the world’s messiest roommate.

On top of his annoyance he was feeling a little uneasy. He and Tracey always ate lunch together, but she hadn’t shown up today. It was probably nothing, but she’d also been uncharacteristically irritable with him lately. It was very confusing, as until about a week ago things had been better than ever between them. He was even crazier about her now than when they’d started dating, and she seemed to feel the same way. He still felt like he was taking the relationship a little more seriously than she was, but it looked like that was beginning to change. He’d taken classes over the summer just to have an excuse to stay in Berkeley with her. He’d told his family he was doing it so he could graduate earlier—they didn’t even know he was dating anyone, as he’d learned long ago that the less any of them knew about his love life the better. He was especially nervous about how Lindsay would react if she knew he was in a serious relationship. She seemed to be over all that now, but he couldn’t be sure.

He heard a knock on the door and got up and opened it. He smiled when he saw that it was Tracey.

“Hi,” he said, pleased to see her. His smile slipped when he saw the look on her face. It looked like she’d been crying.

“I, uh, I need to talk to you,” she stammered, looking somewhat dazed.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, confused. He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him, and followed her to the end of the hall. He was feeling more and more and nervous by the second. Was she going to break up with him? No, there had been nothing to suggest that besides her recent moodiness, and it wouldn’t explain why she’d been crying anyway. Maybe something had happened to her mother? Tracey stepped into the stairwell. He followed her and closed the door behind them. Tracey stood in silence for a moment, looking down at her feet.

“What’s going—”

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

Michael blinked. “You’re…” he said in a daze. “Are you sure?”

“Mm hm,” she squeaked, her eyes filling with tears.

“But…how? We always…”

“It must’ve been last month, after that party.”

Michael leaned back against the wall for support. He remembered that night, both of them drunk and out of condoms. He’d thought just one time… “Oh my god,” he groaned, panicking. “Ah… Are you going to get it—”

“No,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “No, I don’t—I don’t want to.”

Michael’s eyes widened. This couldn’t be happening, they couldn’t have a baby…

“It’s just like my mom,” he vaguely heard Tracey saying, her voice sounding far away to him. “What am I going to do? I can’t—I have to graduate, I have to!”

She started breathing quickly, tears streaming down her face. Michael finally snapped out of it and hugged her. She leaned into him with her whole body and sobbed. He held her tightly, one hand on the back of her head, still feeling like this couldn’t be real.

“It’s okay, we’ll—we’ll figure it out, it will be okay,” he said, though he had no idea how they could raise a baby while both staying in school. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t ready to have a baby.

“You’re going to stay with me?” she choked.

“Wha—yeah, of course,” he said, hurt that she would think he might not. “Yeah, we’ll do this together, we’ll figure it out.”

She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He couldn’t tell if it was out of relief or disdain for his optimism.

“Don’t worry, we can do this,” he said, trying to convince himself as well as her. She didn’t say anything, she just held him tighter.

 

* * *

 

[“This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aoNzZpJbFI) is just like our first date,” Tracey said as she and Michael walked through the gardens at the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco, the evening light casting a blue tint on her pale skin.

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun to do it again,” he said.

“Yeah, it is. It does feel a little weird to be on a date, though, given the circumstances.”

“Why?” he laughed.

“I don’t know. I guess it just feels weird for things to be continuing like usual. It’s nice, though. You’ve been really great this last week, thank you.”

“Any time,” Michael laughed, trying with difficulty to conceal his nerves.

The truth was that he’d taken her here tonight to propose to her. He’d started thinking about it almost immediately after she’d told him she was pregnant a week ago, and that night he’d realized there was really no question. He knew they were young and they hadn’t known each other very long, but they were going to be raising a child together anyway, they might as well get married. It would be best for their son or daughter if their parents were married. (It was unsettling but also exciting to be thinking about what would be best for his son or daughter.) And he loved her, he loved her now more than ever. He had no problem committing to her for the rest of his life. He couldn’t imagine meeting anyone else he’d rather be with. He knew he was probably being naïve, but the more he thought about having a family with her the more excited he became, and part of him was actually glad this had happened. He’d always known he would get married someday, but in his mind it had always been to some faceless stranger. Now he knew who it was and it was  _Tracey_. If she said yes. He was more than a little afraid that she wouldn’t. She’d seemed to view their relationship more casually than he did from the beginning, but she did seem to love him, especially this past week, and it made sense for them to get married under the circumstances.

He hadn’t told anyone about his plans or even about Tracey’s pregnancy yet besides his mother. She’d chewed him out for not being more careful and hadn’t exactly been supportive of his decision to propose to her, but when she’d realized she couldn’t talk him out of it she’d offered to help them with money until he graduated and got a job. She’d also supplemented the money he’d earned from selling a bunch of his things to help him buy an engagement ring, which was a little embarrassing but also much appreciated. Tracey wasn’t the kind of person who cared about things like that but he still wanted to give her a nice one. When he got a job he would pay his parents back for everything.

They reached the rotunda. It was time, he had to do it now, but he wasn’t ready, his heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest. He took a deep breath.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about when I used to see you in the library, before I met you,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady while he recited the speech he’d planned. Tracey smiled. “No matter what time I went there you were always there studying. At first I thought it was a crazy coincidence but then I realized you must just study all the time. I knew even then that I wanted to get to know you.”

“You’re so sweet,” she laughed.

“And I was right,” Michael continued. “Because the more I get to know you the more I fall in love with you. And I know that’s just going to continue. So even though we didn’t plan this and it’s a little scary right now, I wouldn’t change a thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Michael, what are you saying?” Tracey said. He dropped down on one knee.

“Marry me,” he said breathlessly.

Tracey clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god,” she said. “Yes, yes!”

She laughed weakly, her eyes filling with tears. Michael laughed, too, mostly out of relief. He slid the ring onto her finger and stood up and kissed her. She laughed again and wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you,” she said through her tears. It was the first time she’d said it.

“I love you, too,” he said softly, and kissed her again, and as terrified as he was that they might not be able to pull all this off, in that moment it felt like everything was falling into place.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWRnMwI-F4Q) stepped into her new Los Angeles apartment, still feeling some lingering excitement from the protest she’d just returned from. She and Tobias were going to protests, political rallies, and charity events all the time now. She loved it. She didn’t know how she’d been so apathetic before. It was so good to feel like she was doing something that mattered. And it was even more fun with Tobias. He was the complete opposite of most of the guys she’d dated, but that was part of what she liked about him. The fact that it wasn’t his appearance that attracted her to him made her feel like their relationship was more meaningful. It was such a relief after two years of dating guys she didn’t actually care about just for the distraction. Her one complaint was that he was taking things a little too slow—they hadn’t done anything beyond kissing yet. She appreciated that he was trying to be a gentleman, but she was ready to speed things up now and he didn’t seem to be getting the hint.

She took off her shoes and jacket and went into the kitchen. She saw that she had a new message on her answering machine and played it. She was surprised to hear Michael’s voice.

“Hey, Lindsay, it’s Michael. I hope you’re doing well. I, uh, I have something to tell you, so please call me when you get the chance. Thanks.”

Lindsay picked up the phone and dialed his number, her curiosity outweighing her aversion to talking to him.  _I have something to tell you…_

 _Don’t be an idiot,_  she thought, hating herself.

“Hello?” she heard Michael say.

“Hi, it’s Lindsay. I got your message.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. He sounded nervous.

“So what did you want to tell me?”

There was a pause. “Uh… Okay, it’s good news, but it’s a lot to hear at once, so just be prepared for that.”

“Uh, okay?” she laughed.

“Okay, so I’ve been dating this girl for a while. Her name is Tracey. She’s really amazing, I think you’ll really like her.”

“Wait, what—what’s going on?” she interrupted.

“Uh…Well, it turns out she’s pregnant.”

Lindsay’s eyes widened. “Oh, god.”

“I know, but it’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” he said quickly. “I, uh…We’re going to get married.”

Lindsay blinked. She swayed a little and gripped the counter for support. “Wait, wha—you can’t be serious,” she stammered.

“I know it’s really soon, but it makes sense, we’re going to be raising a child together.”

“She’s keeping it?” Lindsay said, the pitch of her voice rising in panic.

“Yeah,” he said, audibly recoiling from her reaction.

“Oh my god,” she said frantically. “How could you let this happen? I mean, god, you’re supposed to be the responsible one!”

“I know, I messed up, okay?”

“She can still—she can get an abortion, can’t she?”

“She doesn’t want to.”

“Well, convince her!”

“I can’t ‘convince her,’ it’s her decision.”

“It affects you, too!”

“I don’t want her to either! I know it’s a lot to take on, but we can handle it. I’m actually kind of excited about it now.”

“Michael, think about this, you can’t take care of a baby right now.”

“Could you just—I know it’s not going to be easy, okay? I’m just trying to make the best of it, so some encouragement would be nice.”

“You don’t have to marry her,” she said weakly.

“Yes, I do.”

“You can still support her, you don’t need to get married!” she said desperately. She couldn’t lose him for good, she couldn’t go through the rest of her life like this.

“I want to. I know we’re young, but…I love her, I want to marry her.”

Lindsay squeezed her eyes shut. There had to be something,  _something_  she could say that would change his mind.

“Do you want to know more about her?” Michael asked tentatively. Lindsay laughed incredulously. “What?” he said indignantly. “You’re going to have to meet her soon anyway, she’s going to be your sister-in-law.”

“Oh, joy.”

“Just give her a chance, she’s a really nice person.”

“I’m sure she is,” she said dryly.

“Stop acting like this, this doesn’t even affect you!”

“Doesn’t—how can you say that?!” Lindsay exploded, her eyes filling with tears. Her words hung in the air. She closed her eyes, realizing too late what she’d almost admitted. “It’s just, you’re my brother, it affects me,” she said. He didn’t say anything. “But whatever, if you want to—ugh, just, I’ve said what I think about it,” she said, and quickly hung up.


	36. Part 2, Chapter 13

**October, 1989**

[“Slow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftv1j92qkq8) down, dear,” Lucille said as Lindsay ate her lobster ravioli. Her mother had taken her out to an Italian restaurant, continuing their new tradition of going out to eat together once a month. “That skirt looks like it’s already stretched to its limit.”

“That’s funny, I was about to tell you to slow down,” Lindsay said without missing a beat. “I don’t have time to drive you home tonight, so easy on the wine.”

Lucille smirked, Lindsay’s retort apparently having no effect on her. Nevertheless, Lindsay felt somewhat proud of herself. She’d gotten better at taking her mother’s criticism. She took another bite of her dinner just to show that she hadn’t gotten to her, though she did eat a little more slowly.

“So, how is your new apartment working out?” Lucille asked, returning to her own meal.

“Good, I really like it.”

“Good. What about that little nelly, are you still dating him?”

Lindsay blushed. “He’s not gay, I told you,” she said in annoyance. She’d brought Tobias to meet her parents a few weeks ago, and after he made some unfortunately phrased remarks about their waiter Lucille was convinced that he was gay. “But yes, I am still dating Tobias, and I really like him. It’s so refreshing to talk to someone that doesn’t only care about themselves,” she said pointedly.

Lucille raised an eyebrow. “Regardless, I don’t want you being public about your relationship with him. It reflects badly on me and your father that our daughter would have such poor judgment.”

Lindsay laughed incredulously. “You’ve got to be joking. I’ll tell whoever I want.”

Lucille rolled her eyes. “Alright, but don’t come running to me when he leaves you for a man.”

Lindsay’s face grew warm. “I don’t know why I keep having dinner with you, all you do is criticize me the whole time,” she muttered.

“Oh, please, and miss out on a free meal? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“You’re just jealous because you’re all old and gross now. That’s why Dad keeps going on all those ‘business trips,’ isn’t it, and you’re taking it out on me.”

Lucille raised her eyebrows and chuckled. “Well, look who came ready to fight.”

Lindsay blushed. That was probably too far, that wasn’t the kind of thing you said to your own mother. She was just so sick of hearing about her weight, she’d wanted to say something that would really hurt her.

“By the way,” Lucille said, the slyness in her voice making Lindsay nervous. “Did you get your invitation to Michael’s wedding? I got mine this morning.”

Lindsay froze. Why was she bringing that up now?

“I, uh, I haven’t checked my mailbox in a few days,” she said apprehensively.

“Ah. Well, I have mine here, here you go,” she said, taking an envelope out of her purse and sliding it across the table to her. Lindsay took it and pulled the invitation out of the envelope, trying to keep her hands from shaking.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the picture. There she was, a real person that he was going to marry. She looked so sweet with her big smile, bright red curls, and flouncy powder blue dress. She was like a human cupcake.  _Tracey Anne Weber._  For god’s sake. And there was Michael, smiling at Tracey like he used to smile at her. And her stomach protruding slightly under her dress… December, it said, only two months away, they must be rushing it so she wouldn’t be showing too much.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Lucille said, watching her closely.

“Uh, yeah,” Lindsay stammered distractedly.

“Yes, it makes sense that he would choose her.”

Lindsay looked up at her. Did she mean what she thought she meant? She thought she saw a trace of a smirk in her innocent smile. How did she know? Sure, she’d seemed to suspect them in high school, but that was two years ago, how did she know that picture would still affect her like this? She needed to say something, she needed to act normal, but she was paralyzed.

Their waitress came over to their table.

“Can I interest you in dessert?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” Lucille replied. “My daughter probably wants some, though.”

“No, I don’t,” Lindsay said, a little too forcefully. The waitress looked surprised. “I mean, no thank you,” Lindsay added, embarrassed. She glanced at her mother again, who was still looking at her with that triumphant smile.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d1acEVmnVhI) stormed into her apartment, closing the door behind her a little too forcefully.  _Don’t think about it, just don’t think about it,_  she told herself as she took off her shoes, but she couldn’t push it out of her mind, she’d been reeling from that dinner the whole drive home. She was such an idiot, she’d acted exactly how her mother had wanted her to. She should have pretended it meant nothing to her, said something about how happy she was for him, or even that she thought he was rushing into it. Anything but just sitting there stunned, the pain so clear on her face.

It was just so unexpected, having that picture sprung on her like that, seeing her for the first time, and all in front of her mother, for whom this was clearly just another move in their little game. How had she known it would affect her like that? Was it really so obvious that she still had feelings for him?  _It makes sense that he would choose her…_  Of course it did, she wasn’t his sister, and he’d knocked her up and felt like he had an obligation to her now, that was all it was. He barely knew her, his relationship with Tracey was nothing compared to what they had.

A sob escaped her throat and her eyes filled with tears. She’d thought she was over him, or at least almost there. She didn’t think about him as often as she used to, and she didn’t miss him when he was gone. But when he’d told her he was getting married she’d realized that this whole time she’d just been waiting for him to change his mind. Someday he would realize that she was the only one for him just like he was the only one for her, and then he’d come back to her. She was so pathetic, feeling this way about her own brother. She didn’t want to, she knew it was gross and  _impossible_ , but whenever she thought about how it had been before she knew she couldn’t let this go. She’d thought he felt the same way. It had always been the two of them, separate from everyone else. She knew he felt the same way, he  _had_ to.

She remembered what he’d said,  _this doesn’t even affect you_ , and his silence when she’d gotten a little too emotional about that. It was infuriating, him acting like she was the crazy one, when he felt the same way about her. He would’ve reacted the same way if she’d told him she was getting married out of the blue.

She froze, her heart beating quickly. She imagined calling him and telling him,  _it’s good news…_  And seeing the look on her mother’s face…

She quickly crossed the room and picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hello?” she heard Tobias say.

“Hi, it’s Lindsay,” she said, her voice a little shaky.

“Oh, hi, Lindsay,” he said, and he sounded so happy that it was her.

“I, uh, I need to ask you something,” she said.

“What is it?”

She laughed breathlessly. “Do you want to get married?”

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSfLHtzgAuI) watched Tracey absentmindedly twisting the ring on her finger, thinking about how surreal it felt to be curled up on his bed with his pregnant fiancée, looking through a brochure for family housing together. His eyes traveled up to her stomach, already noticeably rounder, to her newly full breasts. He wondered hopefully if she would spend the night here with him.

“So it looks like the West Village Apartments are cheaper,” Tracey said, snapping him out of his trance. He returned his attention to the brochure with difficulty.

“Yeah, let’s do those,” he agreed. “Okay, two bed, one bath, that’s eight hundred thirty-five a month.” Tracey sucked in a breath. “It’s okay, my parents are going to help us pay for it,” Michael reminded her.

“Yeah… Are you sure it’s okay to be taking so much from them?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he said. “My mom offered, I didn’t even ask her. And we’ll pay them back as soon as we can.”

“Okay,” she said, though she didn’t look entirely reassured.

The truth was that he was also a little embarrassed about asking for so much. With much difficulty his mother had persuaded his father to pay for the apartment, but George Sr. was furious at Michael for not consulting with him before proposing. He was also vehemently against the marriage and Michael’s commitment to helping raise the baby, as he was worried it would interfere with his education and career. But Michael didn’t want Tracey to worry so he was trying to hide his own qualms.

“Let’s look at the pictures,” he said in an effort to change the subject. “Let’s see, West Village…here they are.”

“Oh, those look nice!” Tracey said.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, though they didn’t look particularly special to him.

“Oh, look at this, they have a child care program.” She took the brochure from him and read. “I can’t tell if it’s free or not… Oh, it looks like we get a subsidy since we’re both in school… With the subsidy it ranges from zero to ten dollars a day, depending on family size and income. It goes from 7:45 to 5:30. That would be great.”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “We should try not use that too much, though, we can arrange our class schedules so at least one of us is home most of the time.”

“Yeah…” Tracey said, though she didn’t seem to be listening, still reading the brochure. “It says they need to be at least three months old. Well, that’s perfect, ‘cause the baby’s going to be born in June, so we can take the summer off and then do the child care when Fall term starts.”

“Yeah. We shouldn’t do the whole day, though,” he said. He’d promised himself that his child wouldn’t be raised by nannies like he and his siblings had been.

“It’s not the whole day, it’s 7:45 to 5:30.”

“That’s still a long time.”

“This program looks really good. And even if we’re home, we’ll be busy studying, so this would probably be better.”

“Yeah…” Michael said uneasily. “Well, we can figure this out later, we’ve got almost a year until then.”

“Okay,” Tracey said. She glanced at the clock on the desk. “Oh no, it’s 11:30 already,” she said, sitting up. “I’d better go.”

“Wait, stay a little longer,” Michael said. It was a Friday night and all they’d done was look at brochures, and she was looking especially lovely tonight.

She smiled. “Sorry, I have work in the morning. I need to get some sleep while I can.”

“Sleep here,” he said, running his hand down her arm.

“Mm, I’d love to,” she sighed. “Your roommate will probably be back soon, though.”

Michael groaned. “Ugh. Okay, good night.”

“Don’t worry. In two months we’ll be living together and this won’t be a problem.”

Michael smiled. “Can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” she said, and kissed him. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

She slid off the bed, picked her backpack up from the floor, and slung it onto her back. “Do you want to meet me after work tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great! See you then.”

“Yeah, see you.”

He watched her leave as the door swung shut behind her, then lay back on the bed and sighed in disappointment. Tracey’s ability to handle her packed schedule was one of the things he loved about her, but it could be a little frustrating at times.

The phone rang on his desk. He got up and slid off the bed and picked it up, wondering who was calling him so late.

[“Hello?”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOF4ekrmk7w) he said.

“Hey, it’s Lindsay.”

“Oh, Lindsay, hi,” he said, surprised. They hadn’t spoken since he’d told her he was getting married a month ago. “How are you?” he asked, a little apprehensively.

“Great,” she said with unnerving enthusiasm. “I have some news to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I’m getting married.”

Michael blinked. “What?” he said.

“I’m getting married! His name’s Tobias, he’s a med student at UCLA.”

“Wait, what are you—is this a joke?” Michael stammered.

“Nope, not a joke.”

“But—I didn’t even know you were dating anyone!” he said. This had to be a joke, it didn’t make any sense.

“Well, I never told you about it, but we’ve been dating for a while.”

“You’re actually serious about this, you’re really getting married.”

“Yes, how much clearer can I be?”

_“Why?”_

“Uh, because we want to?” she laughed.

“You want to—You’re twenty years old, why would you get married right now?” he choked.

She laughed viciously. “This coming from you?”

“That’s different, she’s pregnant.” His heart skipped a beat. “You aren’t pregnant, are you?”

“Oh, no,” Lindsay said, sounding caught off guard.

“Then why are you doing this?” he said, though he was simultaneously breathing an inner sigh of relief.

“Because I love him, I don’t need any other reason!”

“Wha—Who the hell even is this guy?”

“Well, like I said, he’s a med student at UCLA, he’s training to be a therapist slash analyst. He’s really smart, ambitious, socially conscious. He’s amazing, I think you’ll really like him.”

Michael was speechless for a second. This was insane, she couldn’t get married, this was  _Lindsay_. “Well—Jesus, how long have you even known him?” he stammered.

“Since July.”

_“July?”_

“Well, how long have you known Tracey?”

“Longer than that! This is crazy, why are you rushing into this?”

“Because we love each other, there’s no point in waiting!”

“No point in waiting? Lindsay, just think about this!”

“There’s nothing to think about!”

“This is insane!”

“Honestly, Michael, you’re starting to sound a little jealous.”

Michael stopped, stunned. “Is that what this is about?” he said, his voice shaking with anger. “You’re trying to make me jealous?”

“No, I’m just saying that’s what it sounds like—”

“That is sick, Lindsay, that is fucked up.”

“How self-centered are you? You think I would marry someone just to—”

“Damn it, Lindsay, why can’t you let this go?! I’m your brother for god’s sake!”

“That’s not what this is about!”

“One month after I tell you?! It’s LSU all over again! I tell you I’m dating someone and you move across the country, I tell you I’m getting married and you call me a month later and tell me you’re getting married too! Am I supposed to be alone for the rest of my life because you’ve got some weird crush on me?!”

The silence hung in the air for a moment.

“Fuck you,” she said.

Michael blinked, taken aback by the hatred in her voice. He sighed, realizing he’d gone too far. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. She didn’t say anything. “Lindsay? Lindsay, are you there?” he said, but there was still no response. “Shit!” he said, slamming the receiver down.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RqbTpkq62VA) sat at the counter, still reeling from the phone call. She buried her face in her hands. Some weird crush.

She slammed her fist down on the counter, then cried out in pain. She massaged her hand, tears springing to her eyes. It wasn’t supposed to go like that. It was supposed to be her revenge, her chance to show him what it felt like. It had worked at first, it had been very satisfying to hear how panicked he was, proof that he still felt something for her. But she’d gone too far, she’d been too obvious. She thought about what she’d said to him,  _fuck you_. It had been the only thing she could think to say, she’d been so shocked and hurt that he would say something like that to her and she’d wanted to say something that would hurt him back. She hoped it had worked.

He’d been so cruel, yelling at her like that, saying those things. Was that really how he saw it? Had he actually convinced himself that it was completely one-sided, that it was just some pathetic, annoying infatuation she had with him that she refused to let go? It was so unfair, he’d loved her, he’d kissed her too, he’d almost had sex with her. He’d only said that to hurt her, he still had feelings for her, she knew he did. How had things gotten like this? Now she looked more pathetic than ever, LSU all over again. She  _was_ pathetic. And he was still getting married.

And so was she. For the first time that night she started to panic. She couldn’t get married, she was twenty years old, she barely even knew him. What had she been thinking? But she couldn’t go back on it now, she’d already told Michael, and Tobias for that matter. She buried her face in her hands again and groaned. She couldn’t deal with this right now, she’d been through so much tonight. She needed to sleep, to escape from this whole mess for a little while. She would figure it all out in the morning.

She got up and stumbled to her bedroom. The floor was strewn with clothes and boxes and magazines. Normally she didn’t mind the messiness enough to put in the effort to clean it, but at the moment it felt suffocating. She stripped to her underwear and collapsed onto the bed, then turned off the lamp and rolled over and closed her eyes, hoping she would fall asleep quickly.

The phone rang. She cringed. It had to be Michael, who else would be calling her right now? She let it ring. She didn’t want to talk to him right now, she didn’t want to talk to him ever again. She listened as the call went to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me,” she heard him say. “I’m sorry about what I said, it was over the line. Just, please call me back.”

The phone clicked off. She lay in the darkness for a moment, trying to stifle the emotions swirling around in her exhausted brain, then rolled over and closed her eyes again.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__i-CccPdmk) glanced over at Tobias sitting on the couch next to her as they watched  _Dallas_  on the TV in her apartment. She was feeling a little disappointed in the show, which had gone downhill in the last few years, and even more disappointed in Tobias, who had apparently failed to notice the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her thin blouse or the way she’d ‘accidentally’ let the top button come undone. She’d invited him over to watch the show with her, hoping it would give her an opportunity to finally get physical with him. She was feeling a little frustrated. At first she’d thought he was just trying to be a gentleman, but he’d deftly avoided so many of her advances that she was starting to wonder if something else was going on. It certainly seemed overdue now that they were going to get married in four months. (She’d chosen the earliest date for the wedding she thought she could pull off, not wanting Michael to be married while she wasn’t for any longer than necessary.)

“Yeah, it’s not as good as it used to be,” she said when the credits started playing. “I’ll have to show you some of the earlier seasons sometime.”

“Okay,” he said.

She picked up the remote and turned off the TV. She hesitated, then scooted closer to him and leaned against him. He cringed a little. She ignored this.

“Can you believe we’re going to be married in just four months?” she sighed.

“Yes, it certainly is, uh, unbelievable,” he said, sounding nervous.

She sat up and kissed him. He jumped a little but kissed her back. She tried not to cringe—he wasn’t the best kisser. She was hoping he would be a little better at other things. But she pretended to be into it and climbed on top of him.

“I love you,” she sighed between kisses. She hoped it sounded convincing. She certainly enjoyed spending time with him, but she didn’t know if she loved him yet. But she was sure she would someday, and it seemed like something she should say considering that they were engaged.

“I love you, too,” he said, smiling up at her. She smiled back and kissed him again, feeling a little reassured. She slid her hands seductively down his body and took off his belt and started unbuttoning his pants. He recoiled as she did, but she ignored this too and pulled them off. To her surprise she saw that he was wearing denim cut-offs underneath.

“Um, why are you wearing cut-offs under your pants?” she laughed, confused.

“Oh, it’s just…a thing,” he mumbled. Lindsay stared at him. She had no idea what to make of this.

“Um…okay?” she said, laughing nervously, then proceeded to take those off too. Tobias froze up.

“I think we should wait until after the wedding,” he said suddenly, pushing her hands away and sitting up.

“What?” Lindsay said, taken aback.

“Yes, I-I think it would be best,” he stammered, quickly buttoning the cut-offs back up and pulling his pants back on over them.

“Why?” she said, climbing off of him and sitting back down on the couch.

“Uh, I’m just, uh, a traditional kind of guy…”

“Wait, you mean, you’re a virgin?” she said, surprised. He was twenty-five years old.

“Yes…” he said, looking embarrassed.

“Oh,” she said, feeling extremely embarrassed herself. “Well, I mean, I’m not…”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “I just think it would be best if we waited until after the wedding. Then it will be special.”

“Uh, okay,” Lindsay said, mainly just so this awkward exchange would be over.

“Thanks,” Tobias said. He picked the remote up off the coffee table and turned the TV back on. “Let’s see what else is on TV,” he said, flipping rapidly through the channels.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay,” she said, still feeling extremely confused, as well as a little hurt. She stared ahead at the TV screen. It wasn’t because of her, of course he was attracted to her, she was way out of his league. He just wanted to wait until marriage, but  _why?_ He’d never mentioned being religious or anything like that. And what was with those cut-offs? She also wasn’t too thrilled about marrying someone with zero experience in that department. But he would have plenty of time to practice, and that wasn’t why she was marrying him anyway. It would all be okay, it had to be.


	37. Part 2, Chapter 14

**December, 1989**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOmUCbDofo4) looked out the window at the familiar sights around him as he drove, growing increasingly nervous the closer he got to home. He glanced over at Tracey in the passenger’s seat. She was looking out the window with interest—it was her first time in Southern California. The wedding, which was going to take place in Newport Beach, was in a week and they were going to stay with his parents until then. In a few minutes they would arrive and Tracey would meet his family for the first time. He was currently debating how thoroughly he should warn her about them. She had some idea that they weren’t the most pleasant people in the world, but he hadn’t told her the full extent of it. He didn’t want to go overboard and give her a bad impression in case they surprised him with good behavior, but he also didn’t want her to go in unprepared.

“Wow, so this is Newport Beach,” Tracey said, looking out the window.

“Yeah, we’ll be there soon.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you lived near Newport Beach.”

“I  _am_  from Newport Beach.”

“What?” she said, looking over at him. “You told me you were from Los Angeles!”

“Oh,” Michael laughed sheepishly. “I forgot that I told you that. I didn’t want you think I was some spoiled rich kid on our first date.”

Tracey laughed. “You’re so funny. Wow, Newport Beach. Okay.”

Michael hesitated, still trying to figure out how much he should tell her. He decided it was probably best to give her a complete picture. Even if by some miracle they acted like a normal family today there was no way it would last forever.

“So I need to warn you about my family,” he said.

Tracey laughed. “Warn me?”

“Yes,” Michael said seriously.

“Don’t worry, I spent eighteen years with my mother, I’m prepared for anything.”

“You really can’t be too prepared when it comes to my family.”

She laughed again. “Okay, what do you want to warn me about?”

“How about I just go over each of them and tell you what to expect?”

“Oh, wow. Okay, go ahead.”

“Okay. Well, first there’s my dad. He’s a scumbag, in every way. He’s also not very happy about me getting married so young, so he might be kind of rude to you. Just don’t take it personally. Then there’s my mother. She can be very critical, especially with women, so again, don’t take it personally. That’s a good general rule with my family.”

Tracey laughed. “Well, I wasn’t nervous before…”

“I’m not done yet. Then there’s Gob, my older brother. He’ll probably hit on you, he’s hit on every girlfriend I’ve had that I couldn’t keep from meeting him. He’s just really competitive. And Buster, my younger brother… Buster’s fine, he’s just…kind of weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Uh… You’ll see. And Lindsay, my sister. Lindsay’s not so bad—relatively speaking, of course. Except…we kind of had a fight last time we talked, and she hasn’t returned any of my calls since then, so I don’t really know what to expect.”

“What was it about?” she said curiously.

“Uh…” he said uneasily. “It’s kind of complicated. It doesn’t really matter, the point is that she might still be mad at me, and she might be kind of rude to you, too, so just be prepared for that.”

“Um, okay?” Tracey laughed, clearly confused.

Michael hesitated. “Her fiancé will be there, too. I haven’t met him yet.”

“Wait, she’s getting married too?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, his anxiety level rising exponentially. “I guess I didn’t tell you about that.”

“Yeah, you didn’t!”

“Sorry, it just never came up,” he said, wishing he’d told her. Now it would look even worse.

“No, it’s fine, I’m just surprised. Wow, so close together.”

“Yeah,” Michael said faintly. It was bound to look weird, twin siblings getting married two months apart. Didn’t Lindsay realize that?

“When is the wedding?” Tracey asked.

“February. I guess we should probably go…”

“Well, yeah, she’s your sister!”

“Yeah…” he said reluctantly. The thought of watching her get married made him feel sick.

“You don’t seem too happy about it,” Tracey said.

“What? Oh. Yeah, well, I just think she’s rushing into it. She can be kind of impulsive.”

“Hm,” Tracey said. “Wow, two weddings in one family.”

“Yeah,” Michael said grimly. He pulled onto his old street.

“Is this your street?” Tracey asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Michael said, grateful that the conversation had turned away from Lindsay.

“Wow, you’re right by the water,” she said, looking out the window. “These houses must cost a fortune. Does yours look like this?”

“That’s it over there,” Michael said, pointing.

“Oh my  _god_ ,” she laughed. Michael laughed embarrassedly and pulled into the driveway and parked. He looked at the time. They were half an hour earlier than they’d said they would be—he and Tracey were both punctual to a fault. He hoped the lack of preparation wouldn’t make his family even more intolerable.

“Okay, are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes, I am fully prepared.”

“Good,” he laughed as they got out of the car. “Again, you just need to remember that they’re like this with everybody, it’s not about you.”

“Why do you assume they’re not going to like me?” she laughed.

“I’m just trying to prepare for the worst. They  _should_  like you, because you’re amazing, but they’re all crazy so you never know.”

He rang the doorbell and waited apprehensively. He heard footsteps inside and then the door opened.

“Michael!” he heard Gob say, and before he knew what was happening he was being pulled into a tight hug.

“Hey, Gob,” Michael said nervously, trying to extricate himself from his clutches. Thankfully Gob pulled away on his own.

“And you must be Tracey,” he said, offering his hand.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you,” Tracey said, shaking it.

“Likewise,” he said, holding her hand a little too long. Tracey’s smile faltered. But then he let go and walked into the house. “Mom and Dad are out golfing with some potential investors, but they should be back soon,” he said. “Buster’s with them, too.”

Michael’s face grew warm with embarrassment. Golfing with potential investors. Could they sound any more pretentious? “Okay, well, we’ll just go get our bags,” he said, uneasy about spending anymore one-on-one time with Gob.

“Come on, you can get those later!” Gob said. “I haven’t seen you since June, and you’ve barely introduced me to your lovely bride.”

“Okay,” Michael said reluctantly, feeling a flicker of annoyance at hearing him call Tracey ‘lovely.’ He and Tracey sat down on the couch. Gob sprawled out across the other one.

“So when’s the baby due?” he asked, looking pointedly at Tracey’s stomach in a way that bothered Michael.

“June,” Tracey said politely, though she looked a little nervous.

“Wow, that’s exciting,” Gob said.

“Yes, very exciting,” Michael said quickly, unable to keep the familiar competitive spirit from flaring up in him when he saw Gob looking at his fiancée like that. “What about you, how are you doing? I heard you just moved out of here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Gob said, clearly annoyed that he’d brought up the fact that he’d been living with his parents until recently. “Yes, I’ve got a great new place now.”

“Really?” Michael said skeptically. “Does being a magician pay well, then?”

“Well, no, not really, but it’s not about the money, it’s about the love of the craft.” He smiled flirtatiously at Tracey. “Do you like magic?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” she said, caught off guard. He grinned.

“I thought you would. No, I’ve been supplementing my income from magic by stripping.”

“Stripping?” Michael repeated, confused.

“Yeah, you know, like a male stripper. I found this agency called the Hot Cops. It’s not a bad job.”

Michael stared at him. Tracey looked similarly stunned.

“You’re joking, right?” Michael said.

“No, I started working there a few months ago.”

 _“Why?”_  Michael said, baffled.

“Hey, the pay isn’t bad, I can meet women, I even get a chance to practice my showmanship for my magic act. Oh, speaking of which, I was thinking I’d do a show at the wedding.”

“Oh,” Michael said. “I don’t know, Gob…”

“It’s going to be amazing. I already bought this new illusion called the Flames of Passion, it cost, like, five grand.”

“Oh, wow. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” Tracey said. Michael looked over at her. “Yeah, that sounds fun,” she said, giving Michael a nudge.

“Ugh… Okay,” he sighed reluctantly.

“Great!” Gob said excitedly. “I knew you picked a good one, Mikey.”

“Alright, Gob…”

“And you know,” he said, leering at Tracey. “If you’re doing a bachelorette party or anything like that, I would be happy to provide some entertainment there as well…”

Tracey’s eyes widened.

“Hey!” Michael said angrily. Just then the door opened and his parents came in, Buster trailing behind them.

“Oh, you’re here already!” Lucille said.

“Hey, Mom,” Michael said, grateful for the diversion. He and Tracey stood up and went over to them.  _What is wrong with you?_  Michael mouthed at Gob when Tracey wasn’t looking.

“You must be Tracey,” Lucille said, smiling at her.

“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you,” Tracey said, shaking her hand. She offered her hand to George Sr.

“Hm,” he said without taking it, then walked out of the room.

“Dad!” Michael said angrily.

“Now, George,” Lucille said, but he was already walking up the stairs. Tracey stood there awkwardly, not seeming to know what to do. Lucille smiled at her.

“Well, can I get you something to drink?” she asked. Michael felt a rush of gratitude toward her.

“Uh, yeah, some water would be nice. Thank you,” Tracey said, still looking a little stunned.

“No problem,” Lucille said. They went to the kitchen. “Lindsay and her fiancé will be here soon,” she said as she poured the drinks. Michael and Tracey sat at the kitchen table. “I’ll have Rosa bring your bags in. Rosa!” she screeched. “Bring their bags in from the car!”

“Yes, Mrs. Bluth,” Rosa called back from upstairs. Tracey looked at Michael, eyebrows raised. He laughed embarrassedly. Lucille brought their waters over to the table, along with a glass of wine for herself.

“Now where did Buster get off to?” she said. “Buster?!”

“Yes?” Buster said, coming out from behind the door.

“What are you doing there?” Lucille said. “Come sit with us, introduce yourself to Tracey.”

He joined them at the table. “I’m Buster,” he said shyly, not meeting her eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tracey said politely, though she looked a little disconcerted by his appearance from behind the door.

“Oh, is that your wedding dress?” Lucille said as Rosa walked by the kitchen with a garment bag.

“Oh, yes, that’s it,” Tracey said.

“I want to see it,” she said excitedly. “Rosa, bring that in here!” Rosa brought the dress in. Lucille stood up and took it from her and unzipped the bag. “Oh…” she said with distaste when she saw the dress. “How much did you pay for this?”

“Um, two hundred fifty dollars?” Tracey said nervously.

“For a  _wedding dress_?”

“Mom—”

“I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, we’ll get you a new one,” Lucille said.

“Oh!” Tracey said, surprised. “That’s really not necessary.”

“No, it’s necessary. Of course on such short notice we’ll have to get something off the rack… And finding one that fits might be a challenge, dear lord, a maternity wedding dress… But I’m sure we can do better than this.”

“Mom, really—”

“It’s fine,” Tracey said. “Thank you, that’s very generous of you.”

“Happy to help,” Lucille said, handing the dress back to Rosa and sitting down. “I can’t have my daughter-in-law wearing rags on her wedding day. So, tell me more about yourself. Where are you from?”

“Alturas,” Tracey replied. “It’s in Northeastern California.”

“Are there towns there?” Lucille said with genuine astonishment.

“Um, not very many,” Tracey laughed.

“Hm,” Lucille said without laughing, apparently thinking over this new information. “What does your father do?”

“Oh, I just lived with my mom.”

“What happened to your father, is he dead?”

“Uh, no, he’s just…not in the picture,” Tracey said, looking flustered.

“Hm,” Lucille said again, raising her eyebrows. Tracey flushed. “Well, what does your mother do?”

“She’s a waitress.”

“A  _waitress_?” Lucille said, her jaw dropping.

“Yes,” Tracey said, her face turning even redder. She was starting to look angry now.

“Well, that explains the dress,” Lucille muttered.

“Mom!” Michael said angrily.

“Dear lord,” she said to herself, ignoring him. “Is she going to be at the wedding?”

“No,” Tracey snapped. “So don’t worry, it should be a waitress-free event.”

Lucille looked at her in surprise. Michael couldn’t help but smile. Tracey blushed.

“Um, excuse me,” she said, getting up. “Morning sickness.” She hurried out of the room. Lucille chuckled and turned to Michael.

“I like her,” she said.

Michael sighed exasperatedly and got up and left the kitchen as well. He found Tracey in the hallway.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “I just said that to get out of there. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at her like that.”

“No, it was great,” Michael laughed. “She needs people to stand up to her more. Anyway, she likes you.”

“She does?” Tracey said incredulously.

“Yeah, she just said so.”

“I did not get that impression,” she said faintly.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Like I said, she’s like that with everyone. And my dad’s just mad at me, he’ll get over it.”

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling reassuringly. “I’m sure I’ll get used to them.”

“You won’t have to. I don’t visit them much anyway, and we’ll make sure to live far, far away. We just have to avoid them as much as we can over the next week and we’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she laughed. “Although it looks like I’m dress-shopping with your mother tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll talk to her.”

“No, it’s fine. It will be nice to have a bigger budget anyway.”

“Well, whatever you choose I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”

“Aww,” she laughed, and kissed him. He kissed her back, running his hand down her arm, a little thrill going through him as he realized that in a week they would be married.

“And you know,” he said, pulling away slightly. “My mom used to be a waitress before she met my dad.”

“Really?” Tracey laughed.

“Yeah, she doesn’t like to talk about it but it’s true, so feel free to throw that at her if she says anything else about your mother.”

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind,” she laughed, and kissed him again.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IaB9QywNCNc) turned onto her old street, another spasm of nervousness gripping her as she saw her parent’s house. In just a few minutes she would see him again, and  _her_. She had to act normal and show him she didn’t care, but she wasn’t sure she could. Just seeing a picture of Tracey had sent her spiraling.

“Well, I certainly hope I ‘hit it off,’ as they say, with your brother and his fiancée,” Tobias said from the passenger seat. “I suppose when it comes to me and your family things can go only go up!” He laughed pathetically.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsay snapped, wishing he was more impressive. Why had she thought this guy would make Michael jealous? She pulled into the driveway and got out of the car.

She froze when she saw them. There they were in the window kissing. She swayed a little and looked away. For god’s sake, the first time she saw them together and they were kissing? It was okay, it never used to bother her to see him with other girls, but that was before she’d fallen in love with him, and he was  _marrying_  Tracey. Couldn’t they have moved away from the window so she wouldn’t have to see this?

“Who is that?” Tobias asked, sounding similarly stunned for some reason.

“Uh, that’s Michael, and his fiancée,” Lindsay said distractedly.

“Oh,” Tobias said faintly.

Lindsay steeled herself. She could do this, she could get through the next hour or two without falling apart. She walked determinedly to the front door and opened it and went inside.

Michael jumped at the sound of the door opening and quickly pulled away from Tracey. “Lindsay,” he said, startled.

“Hi, it’s good to see you,” Lindsay said, forcing a smile. She went over to him and quickly hugged him. She felt him tense in surprise, sending a flash of anger through her. It would have looked weird if they didn’t hug. She realized that the last time she’d seen him was when she was hugging him goodbye before he went back to college in June, before she’d known Tracey even existed, or Tobias for that matter. She pulled away.

“Well, we’ve got a lot of introducing to do,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, this is Tracey,” Michael said quickly, still looking flustered and embarrassed that she’d walked in on them kissing. “And Lindsay,” he said, waving a hand at Lindsay.

“Hi, Tracey, it’s nice to meet you,” Lindsay said, shaking her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Tracey said, smiling that same big smile she’d seen in the picture. Lindsay surreptitiously looked her over. She didn’t look as good in person, or maybe she’d just gotten more fixed up for the picture. She was kind of pretty, in a very ordinary sort of way. Not someone you would notice in a crowd. Her head was too big for her skinny little body, which was especially ungainly with her slight baby bump. She certainly had no fashion sense, judging from that frumpy sweater. Michael could do better.

“And this is Tobias,” Lindsay said, wishing he looked ten times better.

“Hi, I’m Michael, it’s nice to meet you,” Michael said, shaking his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Tobias said, grinning at him. “Oh, you’re nice and firm.”

Michael blinked. “Uh,” he said confusedly, then closed his mouth, seeming to decide he must have misheard. Lindsay blushed, seriously considering saying, ‘He means your handshake,’ but she decided it was probably best to just let this go unacknowledged.

“Sorry we’re late,” she said instead, hoping to provide a diversion. “We had to wait for Tobias’s class to finish up. You know, he’ll be graduating from the medical school at UCLA in June.”

“Wow, congratulations,” Tracey said.

“Yeah, congratulations,” Michael said, looking slightly annoyed.

“And he just got accepted into a residency program at Mass General,” she added for good measure.

“In Boston?” Michael said.

“Yep, we’ll be moving there in the summer,” she said, relishing the opportunity to throw this at him.

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” Michael said. Lindsay watched him, loving that he looked a little upset about this. She suddenly remembered walking on the beach with him on the Fourth of July two and a half years ago, telling him she was thinking about going to college in Boston and him convincing her not to. She realized she had ended up choosing a college far away from him anyway, and now she really was going to Boston. She quickly pushed the memory from her mind.

Lucille came into the room.

“Oh, you’re here,” she said sourly when she saw her and Tobias. She still hadn’t forgiven Lindsay for getting engaged to him.

“Nice to see you, too,” Lindsay said sarcastically.

“Well, dinner’s ready,” Lucille said. “We’re having sausages.”

“Excellent, I’d love a big sausage in my mouth right about now,” Tobias said. “What about you, Michael?”

Michael’s eyes widened. He turned to Lindsay. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he said to her. He took her arm without waiting for a response and pulled her quickly to the edge of the room. “Is this some kind of joke?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“No, he just has a misleading way of speaking,” she said helplessly, mortified.

“Yeah, I’m feeling pretty misled.”

“Why don’t you get back to your fiancée?” she snapped. Michael looked at her in surprise, seeming to just realize that this was the first time they’d spoken one-on-one since that phone call.

“I’ve been trying to call you—” he started to say.

“Yeah, I know,” she interrupted. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Uh—okay,” he stammered.

“It’s going to look weird if we talk any longer,” she said. Michael looked over at Tracey, who was watching them curiously. She quickly looked away. Michael turned back to Lindsay, clearly alarmed.

“Go!” Lindsay said irritably. Michael hesitated, then went back to Tracey. Lindsay rolled her eyes and followed him, wishing she could disappear.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxe7afmGG7w) sat impatiently in the pew. When was this damn thing going to start? It was time for the wedding ceremony and she just wanted to get it over with and go home. She’d had a little to drink beforehand to help her get through it, but she was starting to think she hadn’t had nearly enough. And she still had to go the reception after this. For god’s sake, it never ended.

The doors opened and everyone stood, Lindsay a little unsteadily from the alcohol. Tracey entered the church with George Sr., who was walking her down the aisle in place of her father. Michael had had a hard time convincing him to do it but he’d eventually agreed, seeming to finally realize that nothing he did would put a stop to this marriage. Lindsay was feeling the same way herself.

Michael walked out onto the altar. His face spread into a big smile when he saw Tracey. Lindsay felt a stab of pain. She really did look beautiful. But she would look like that at her own wedding in two months. She tried to distract herself with thoughts of her dress and hairstyle and décor, something that usually cheered her up, but right now it only sent waves of panic through her.

“Dearly beloved,” the officiant began when Tracey joined Michael at the altar. “We are gathered here today in the presence of family, friends, and loved ones for the purpose of uniting in matrimony Tracey Anne Weber and Michael George Bluth.”

 _It’s okay, it’s okay,_  Lindsay told herself as the officiant continued. She’d always known there was no chance of it, even that last summer before he left she’d known she would never be with him. She needed to move on, he was getting married for crying out loud. Of course, they might get divorced…  _Don’t,_  she told herself. She couldn’t hope for that at his wedding. And even if they did, it wasn’t like he would come back to her, he’d made that very clear two and a half years ago.

She looked back up at them and tried to be happy for him. He was her twin brother after all, and despite everything that had happened she still loved him more than anyone. She wanted him to be happy, didn’t she? He really did seem to love this girl. She could see the excitement on his face now, he looked so thrilled to be marrying her. This was what he wanted, a normal wife and a normal family, but she couldn’t feel happy for him, it wasn’t right. Tracey barely knew him and she was just waltzing in and taking what was hers without even knowing it.

“Michael Bluth,” the officiant said, snapping Lindsay out of her thoughts. “Do you take Tracey Weber to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony? Do you promise to love her, honor her, comfort her, and keep her for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her until death do you part?”

“I do,” he said, smiling at Tracey.

“And do you, Tracey Weber, take Michael Bluth to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony? Do you promise to love him, honor him, comfort him, and keep him for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him until death do you part?”

“I do,” she said, her voice a little shaky.

“The rings, please.”

Tobias tentatively reached over and held Lindsay’s hand. She stiffened. Normally this would have made her happy—the rarity of his romantic gestures was one of the things that irritated her about him—but right now she just wanted to pull her hand away. But she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she gave him a quick smile and returned her attention to the front of the church.

“Please join hands and repeat after me. With this ring, as a token of my love and affection, I thee wed.”

“With this ring, as token of my love and affection, I thee wed,” Michael said, and slid the ring onto Tracey’s finger. The officiant turned to her.

“With this ring, as a token of my love and affection, I thee wed.”

“With this ring, as a token of my love and affection, I thee wed,” she said, and slid the ring onto his finger. Lindsay’s breath caught in her throat.

“By virtue of the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Michael smiled giddily at Tracey, and her own face broke into that big, wide smile of hers.

“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant said, smiling as well.

Michael lifted Tracey’s veil and kissed her. Lindsay looked down at her lap, then realized that everyone was clapping. She quickly joined in and forced herself to look back up at them. Did they have to kiss for so long? But then they pulled away from each other and turned to face to the room. Everyone stood as they walked back down the aisle. As Michael passed he caught Lindsay’s eye and gave her a tentative smile. The sight broke her heart. She tried her best to give him a convincing smile in return, but she was worried it came off as more of a grimace. He looked like he appreciated it, though. Then he turned away and he and Tracey left the church.

“Okay, let’s go,” Lindsay said to Tobias as soon as they were out the door.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0AKJMGxwpE) scanned the reception tent for Lindsay while Tracey talked to her best friend from Alturas. They’d decided to hold the reception in his parents’ backyard to save money, though money was clearly no longer an issue. His mother had taken over every aspect of the wedding planning and payed for it all herself, sparing no expense in transforming the backyard into an explosion of ribbons and floral arrangements. The reception had been going on for over an hour now but there was still no sign of Lindsay, and he was starting to feel worried.

“What’s wrong?” Tracey asked him when her friend left.

“Nothing, just looking for my sister,” he said. He spotted Tobias chatting with Buster and went over to him.

“Hey, Tobias, do you know where Lindsay is?” he asked.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Tobias said dramatically. “I dropped her off at her apartment after the ceremony and she said she would meet me here, but alas, there is still no sign of my bride-to-be.”

“Uh, okay,” Michael said. Was Lindsay really having sex with this guy? “Can you let me know if you see her?” he asked.

“Of course, anything for my future brother-in-law,” he said enthusiastically.

“Okay, thanks,” Michael said, and went back to Tracey.

“Does he know where she is?” she asked.

“No, apparently she said she would meet him here,” he said uneasily.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s fine,” Tracey said. “She probably just got stuck in traffic.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, hoping that was all it was. He was momentarily distracted by Gob wheeling in a giant heart-shaped metal ring that would presumably be set on fire. “Oh god, that must be for the magic show,” he groaned.

Tracey laughed. “Oh, wow.”

“You didn’t have to agree to that.”

“I know, but he already spent so much money on it. I don’t really care. To be honest I just want to get this reception over with so we can get to the hotel,” she said, giving him a playful smile.

“Oh,” Michael said, raising his eyebrows and laughing.

She smiled warmly at him. “I can’t believe we’re actually married now.”

“Yeah, me neither,” he agreed emphatically, remembering the unexpected shock he’d felt when the officiant had pronounced them husband and wife. It still didn’t feel real to him. He had to keep reminding himself that he was someone’s husband now. Part of him still felt like they were kids playing at being grown-ups.

“You know, a year ago we were seeing each other in the library,” Tracey said. “I didn’t even know your name.”

“Oh my god, you’re right,” he said. He laughed weakly, thinking it was probably wasn’t a good sign that he hadn’t even known his wife for a full year yet. “Wow.”

“Yeah…” she laughed. “I’m glad, though. For everything. I think it’s all going to work out.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said, thinking that this was the least she could say on their wedding day, but at least she seemed to genuinely mean it. Over the last few days Tracey had seemed increasingly nervous about the wedding and he’d started to panic that his family had scared her off.

“Hey, is that Lindsay?” Tracey said, looking towards the gate. Michael followed her gaze. Sure enough, there was Lindsay walking unsteadily towards them. Michael felt a flash of panic. Was she drunk? She came over to them.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” she said, her words slurred. Tracey’s eyes widened. “I lost tracka the time. You look  _beautiful_ , Tracey,” she said, grabbing Tracey’s arm. “Michael’s a lucky guy!” She laughed loudly, a note of sarcasm in her voice.

“Uh, thank you,” Tracey said nervously. She looked questioningly at Michael, who was feeling more and more frantic by the second. What would people think, first she got engaged a month after him and now this?

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he said to Lindsay, quickly pulling her aside for the second time that week. “Are you drunk?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“No,” she said indignantly. “I mean, I…I had a little to drink before I came here…”

“Seems like more than a little. Jesus, Lindsay, what were you—it’s my wedding!” he said frantically.

“ _Relax_ , no one’s gonna notice,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“You should go home. Maybe Tobias can take you?”

“I don’ needa go home, I’m  _fine_!” she said loudly. Several people turned to look at them.

“Okay, okay,” Michael said quickly, starting to panic. “Just, try to keep it together.”

“Okay,  _jeez_ ,” she said, and stumbled off. Michael watched her in frustration for a moment, then returned to Tracey.

“Is she drunk?” Tracey asked.

“Ugh…yeah,” Michael sighed.

“Why?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t think there’s a specific reason,” he hedged.

“Did she…not want us to get married?”

“What?” he said, alarmed. “No, she’s fine with it.”

“It’s okay, I know your dad’s not happy about it.”

“Really, she’s fine with it,” he said desperately.

“It’s just, you said you two fought recently, and now this…”

“That was nothing, it was about something else.”

“What was it?”

“Ugh… It’s nothing, really.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what it is?” she said, laughing weakly.

“It’s just, it’s between us. It’s not important.”

She sighed huffily. “Okay, fine,” she said. Michael felt another rush of anger towards Lindsay. Three hours into his marriage and she was already making him lie to his wife.

Just then a middle-aged woman in a bright pink dress came over to them.

“Congratulations!” she said.

“Oh, thank you,” Tracey said, hugging her. “It’s so good you see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, you look so beautiful,” she said warmly. “Now can you introduce me to this handsome young man?”

Tracey laughed. “Michael, this is my Aunt Sandy.”

“Nice to meet you,” Michael said as he shook her hand, extremely grateful for the distraction. Tracey had told him about her aunt before, who was her closest living relative aside from her mother. From what he’d heard she was a bit flighty but a much more loving presence in Tracey’s life than her mother was.

“It’s so nice of you to come all this way,” Tracey said.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Michael scanned the crowd for Lindsay while they continued talking. He saw her sitting alone in the corner of the tent, dejectedly picking at a piece of cake. Well, at least she was eating something. He clenched his teeth in annoyance. He knew she was upset, but it was his wedding. Couldn’t she control herself enough to get through one day without making a scene?

His mother came over to them.

“We’re getting everyone together for pictures now in the garden,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. He, Tracey, and Sandy went to the garden, where the photographer was waiting with Michael’s father and brothers.

“We’re going to start with immediate family members,” the photographer explained. Lucille came over with Lindsay.

“Oh, honey,” she said to her. “It’s a wedding, not a bar.”

Lindsay scowled at her.

The photographer arranged them all and took the pictures. Michael glanced over at Tracey between pictures. She really did look beautiful that day.  _Tracey Bluth,_  he thought to himself. He liked that. She noticed him looking at her and smiled and held his hand.

“Okay, now for one with all the guests,” the photographer said. “Everyone over here.”

The guests all filtered over and the photographer arranged them. Michael looked over at Lindsay. She was arguing with Tobias about something, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He prayed she wouldn’t do anything more to draw attention to herself.

“Everyone smile,” the photographer said. Michael wrapped his arm around Tracey’s waist and smiled. Just as the photographer took the picture Lindsay stumbled forward and vomited on the grass.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yk5OFj7WCXI) lay sprawled on the living room couch, trying desperately not to think about all the embarrassment and misery of that day. After she’d thrown up she’d gone inside to get cleaned up and decided to just stay there. Judging from the fact that she could hear ‘The Final Countdown’ playing outside, they’d finished the first dance and now Gob was doing his magic show. She didn’t need to be there for either of those.

She wished she could sleep forever, just to forget about all of this, or go back in time, before he got married, before she got engaged, all the way back to that phone call the night he left and she would say something that would change his mind. There must have been something she could have done, because he’d loved her, she knew he had. God, he must think she was such a mess now. Everyone would, including Tracey. It was so unfair. All week she’d been perfectly polite to Tracey, she’d tried so hard to smother her emotions and behave, and now all Michael would remember was that she’d shown up drunk to his wedding. She hadn’t meant to drink so much. She’d just wanted enough to get through the reception without falling apart and she’d gone a little too far. He shouldn’t have gotten mad at her like that, didn’t he understand how hard this was for her?

She started to cry. He was married now, she really was losing him forever. She couldn’t go through the rest of her life like this, suffocated by this crushing emptiness. The only time she’d ever been happy was with him those months before he left. It was so unfair, Tracey hadn’t even known him a full year, she didn’t know Michael like she did, no one did. He loved her, he was pretending he didn’t but he did. How could he have said that to her, some weird crush, like it was all one-sided? He would never have said something like that to her three years ago. She didn’t deserve this, all she’d done was kiss him, and he’d kissed her too.

She was suddenly distracted by the sound of screaming outside. She sat up.  _What the…?_ She wiped her eyes and got up and went to the back door, hearing cries of,  _“Put her out! Put her out!”_ She stepped outside and saw Tracey standing under the tent, soaking wet and with the shoulder of her dress burned black and a good portion of her hair singed off. Michael was standing near her holding an empty vase.

“Are you okay?” he said frantically, rushing over to her. Tracey nodded weakly. She was shaking all over. Michael rounded on Gob, who was standing near them with the big heart-shaped ring.  _“What is wrong with you?!”_  he shouted.

“It was an accident!” Gob stammered. Michael stared at him in disbelief, then turned to his parents and Buster, who were all the way on the opposite end of the tent. “And you!” he said furiously. “You  _ran away_?!”

“Michael, calm down—” Lucille started to say.

“Calm down,” he repeated incredulously. “ _He set my wife on fire!_  I can’t do this anymore, I’m just, I’m done, I’m done with this family!” He turned and saw Lindsay standing in the doorway. “You, too, Lindsay!” he said angrily. “I’m done with all of you, you’re all insane!” He turned back to Tracey. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked her.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine,” she said, clearly traumatized. Michael looked at the burned areas of her hair.

“Oh god, you’re burned,” he said.

“I-I think it’s just minor.”

“Come on, let’s go inside,” he said, leading her out of the tent. Lindsay stepped aside to let them pass, still trying to piece together in her drunken state what had just happened, but she did register the glare that Michael threw at her as they passed.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmMI9KEouJs) crouched on the floor of his and Tracey’s bedroom, pulling clothes out of boxes and sorting them to put into the closet. The evening sky outside the window was deep blue with rainclouds and he could hear the raindrops on the leaves of the trees outside. He and Tracey had gotten back from their honeymoon two days ago and they were in the process of moving into their new apartment.

He looked up and saw Tracey through the crack in the bedroom door, sitting at the kitchen counter studying, her hair cut short as a result of the fire damage at the wedding. He smiled to himself. Earlier that day she’d had her mid-pregnancy ultrasound and they’d found out they were having a boy. Michael was over the moon. Over the last few months none of this had felt entirely real, but now it was really happening, they were married and in five months they were going have a baby, a little boy. He loved being married, and he loved that he was going to be a father. He and Tracey had only moved in together two days ago, nine counting the honeymoon, but it was already amazing. He loved falling asleep next to her every night, deciding together how to organize the apartment, seeing the wedding ring on his finger every time he looked at his left hand. He even liked buying groceries for the two of them and making sure to get her favorite foods. He could easily picture living with her like this for the rest of his life, and with their son, and maybe they’d even have more kids in the future. It was hard to believe he’d ever been worried at all.

He finished putting away the clothes from the box he’d been working on and looked at the phone on the nightstand. He should probably call Lindsay now. He’d spent half the day debating whether or not he should call her and tell her the news. He hadn’t spoken to her since the wedding, when he’d told her and the rest of the family that he was done with them. He’d begrudgingly called his parents and apologized a few days later after realizing that he still needed them to pay for their apartment. He couldn’t wait to graduate and get a job so he wouldn’t be dependent on them anymore. But he hadn’t talked to any of his siblings yet. He’d decided to forgive Buster and Gob. Buster hadn’t been guilty of anything besides running away along with his parents, and as furious as he still was with Gob, it had been an accident. He would wait for Gob to apologize first, though.

Lindsay was an entirely different matter. At the time he’d been so angry at her, thinking about how instead of being supportive on one of the most important days of his life she’d decided to continue to make him pay for one stupid mistake he’d made more than two years ago. But once he’d had time to calm down he’d realized that she hadn’t gotten drunk just to spite him. She’d probably just had a hard time getting through the wedding sober. It was hard to believe that she still wasn’t over all that. It seemed so far away to him now. But as messed up as the whole thing was, he did feel a little guilty that she was still so broken up about it. He just wanted things to back to how they’d been before, before things had gotten so weird between them and all she’d been to him was his twin sister.

He got up and went to the phone and dialed her number. If she didn’t find out from him she’d hear about it from their parents, and he didn’t want her feelings to be hurt. He was married now and she would be soon. It was time to put the past behind them and be friends again.

“Hello?” he heard her say. She sounded tired.

“Hi, it’s Michael,” he said, a little nervously.

“Michael,” she said, clearly surprised. “Hi, how are you?”

“Good,” he said, smiling. “It’s a boy.”

“Oh!” she said. “Wow. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” he said. The pain in her voice was clear, but he appreciated that she was trying. “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said at the wedding,” he said. “I was just upset about Gob, I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” she said quickly. He waited for her to apologize for her own behavior, but she didn’t say anything more.

“So how are you?” he asked, shrugging it off.

“Great, great,” she said unconvincingly. He felt bad for her, hearing her sound so strained.

“Getting ready for the wedding?” he asked, trying to keep the grimace out of his own voice.

“Yeah, we’re really excited. Are you going to come down for it?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, thinking about how messed up things had gotten between them that there was even a question of whether or not he would attend her wedding.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, sounding genuinely grateful. “And Tracey’s invited, too, if she wants to come,” she added.

“Great,” Michael said. He’d assumed that was a given, but he appreciated it nonetheless. “Yeah, we’ll both go.”

“Okay. Good, it will be…nice to have her there.” The effort it took her to say it was audible.

“Thanks, Lindsay,” Michael said. He knew that wasn’t something that would typically merit thanks, but he wanted her to know he was grateful that she was trying.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she said, sounding caught off guard by his thank-you.

“So where are you going for the honeymoon?” he asked.

“Paris,” she said excitedly.

_“Paris?”_

“Yeah, Dad got us tickets.”

“ _Dad_  got you tickets to Paris?”

“Yeah, I was surprised, too. He was so against me marrying Tobias that I didn’t think he would contribute anything, but last week he gave me the tickets and a check for all the wedding expenses as a surprise.”

“He didn’t give me anything!” Michael said angrily. “I asked him and he gave me a whole lecture about how I need to be self-reliant!”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault, it’s just…  _Paris._ ” He and Tracey had had a dirt cheap honeymoon in San Diego, and all on their own dime.

“I’m sorry, that’s not right. I can talk to him if you want.”

“No, it’s done now. Thanks, though.”

“No problem,” she said. Michael smiled.

“Well, have fun in Paris,” he said, laughing.

She laughed, too. “Thanks.”


	38. Part 2, Chapter 15

**February, 1990**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOpJlnPCZT0) climbed up the staircase of the wedding venue Lindsay and Tobias had rented for the evening, trying to find the bridal suite. It was almost time for the ceremony and he wanted to see Lindsay beforehand, having not had a chance to talk to her yet that day. He hadn’t yet succeeded in wrapping his head around the fact that she was about to get married—he still thought the marriage was at least in part an attempt to get back at him, and even if it wasn’t the idea of her getting married made him feel a little sick—but he thought he should try his best to be supportive nonetheless. He found the room and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he heard Lindsay say.

He opened the door and stepped in. Lindsay turned to him from the vanity, where she was sitting touching up her makeup. She looked beautiful in her lacy white dress, her blonde hair swept up off her bare shoulders with a crown of white flowers running through it.

“Michael,” she said when she saw him. She looked a little dazed. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said, smiling and walking over to her and sitting in the chair next to hers. Should he tell her she looked beautiful? No, of course not. “I wanted to see you before the ceremony,” he said instead.

“Oh,” she said, smiling. She went back to redoing her lipstick. She looked very agitated.

“Hopefully your wedding will go a little more smoothly than mine,” he joked. She cringed. He realized she might have thought he was talking about her throwing up. “With any luck you’ll get through the night without catching on fire,” he added to clarify.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “Yeah, my wedding will definitely be magic-free.”

“Well, at least one of us will get it right.”

She laughed, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“What? Oh, yeah, a little,” she said distractedly. “I’m excited, though, he’s really great.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Michael said, hoping it sounded sincere. She smiled, though it was closer to a grimace. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her face becoming increasingly desperate. She looked down at her lap.

“I don’t know, maybe this is a bad idea,” she muttered.

“What?”

“It’s not too late to call it off,” she said softly, her voice breaking, and when she looked up at him her eyes were full of tears.

“Wha—yes, it is, the wedding’s in half an hour!” he said, stunned.

“I know, it’s just, I think it’s a bad idea, I should have called it off months ago,” she said, breathing quickly.

“Lindsay, you can’t do that to him,” Michael said, remembering his own panic over Tracey’s nervousness in the days leading up to their wedding.

“You said I shouldn’t marry him before!” she said, sounding almost angry.

“That was months ago, it’s the day of the wedding!” he said. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, then started to cry. “Hey, it’s okay,” Michael said, startled. He awkwardly touched her arm. She breathed in shakily. He tried to suppress the sudden frustration he felt. Why couldn’t she have come to this conclusion months ago? “He seems like a nice guy,” he said reassuringly. “It’s normal to have doubts.”

“Did you?” she choked, looking up at him, her eyes sparkling with tears. Michael looked back at her, alarmed by the desperation in her face.

“Uh, I don’t know,” he stammered. “Not really.” Her expression hardened. She turned away. “Don’t worry, it will be fine,” he said, feeling a little guilty at seeing her look so betrayed. She shook her head.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, her voice still shaky. “It’s probably just nerves. Forget I said anything.”

“Uh, okay,” he said, surprised by the sudden change.

“Well, I’d better go,” she said suddenly, picking up her white gloves from the desk and putting them on with surprising ferocity.

“Oh,” Michael said, startled. “Okay.”

He watched her stand up and straighten her dress, a little confused as to why she suddenly seemed so angry at him but guilty nonetheless. “Good luck,” he said as she walked towards the door. She didn’t turn around. “You look beautiful,” he added. She laughed bitterly and left the room.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqsyITOySUw) studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror of their hotel room in Paris. She really did look amazing in her white satin slip and deep red lipstick. If he didn’t want to fuck her tonight there really must be something wrong with him. She resumed curling her hair.

She’d tried once again to seduce Tobias on their wedding night three days earlier, and once again he’d refused, claiming he was tired and wanted to wait until they got to Paris. She’d pleaded quite a bit and even gotten a little angry, but he still wouldn’t budge. She’d really started to worry then, trying to suppress the fear that her mother had been right, but she’d decided to wait and give it one more try before asking him point blank what was going on. The next night they were on the plane and the night after that she hadn’t tried, feeling tired herself after travelling all through the previous night. But now they were three days into their marriage and he was out of excuses.

She finished curling her hair and sprayed on the expensive new perfume she’d bought earlier that day, then turned and inspected herself from various angles. Then she put on her heels, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the bathroom.

Tobias was sitting on the bed watching TV. He didn’t look away from it when she stepped into the room. She waited for a second, then cleared her throat impatiently. He glanced over at her. His eyes widened when he was what she was wearing. She hoped it was because of how hot she looked, though his expression looked more like one of panic than arousal.

“What do you think?” she said, trying to sound seductive.

“Um, you look very…nice,” he stammered.

Lindsay tried to keep her hurt feelings from showing on her face. She looked amazing, what was the matter with him? But she ignored this and climbed onto the bed with him. She crawled seductively over to him and kissed him softly, then again with more intensity. He kissed her back, though the lack of enthusiasm was tangible. She picked up the remote as she kissed him and turned off the TV, feeling a little annoyed that he hadn’t done it himself.  _He’s just nervous, he’s nervous because it’s his first time,_  she told herself. She started unbuttoning his pants. A blow job would calm him down.

“Wait, Lindsay, I’m kind of tired,” he said abruptly.

“You said that last time,” she said, and kissed him again.

“Well, you know. Jetlag.”

“Come on,” she said, trying to sound sexy, though she was starting to panic. “Je t’aime tellement.”

“I don’t speak French.”

“It means I love you!” she snapped.

“Oh. I love you, too.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she pleaded. “You find me attractive, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course, I just—I just don’t want to tonight.”

“Then when?” she said, starting to get upset. “You’ve been saying that for months! I mean, I get that you wanted to wait until marriage, but we’re married now, so what’s the problem?” Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away angrily.

“I’m sorry, it’s—it’s not about you.”

She looked at him for a moment, then rolled off of him onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh my god,” she groaned, closing her eyes. She opened them and looked at Tobias. “Are you gay?” she said. Tobias’s eyes widened.

“What—No, of course not! What makes you—why would you think that?” Lindsay gave him an incredulous look. He sighed. “No, I—I’m not gay, it’s just…I’m a never-nude.”

Lindsay looked at him blankly. “Is that exactly what it sounds like?”

“Um, yes, basically,” he said uncomfortably. “It’s a real psychological affliction, it affects dozens of people.”

“So…what does that mean, you’re afraid to get undressed?”

“Well, yes, that’s the gist of it.”

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m your wife, you can be comfortable with me,” she said, trying to be reassuring, though she was thinking that this was unbelievably weird.

“No, it’s not about you, I can’t even be undressed when I’m alone.”

Lindsay stared at him, desperately hoping this was some kind of joke. Was this why he was wearing those cut-offs? “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she said.

“I don’t know, I guess I was just worried about what you would think,” he sighed.

“So, what was your plan?” she said, starting to get upset. “I mean… Is that why you wanted to wait until marriage, so I wouldn’t find out until we were already married?”

“No!” he said, recoiling at her anger. “No, I just…I thought I could get over it by then.”

“Well, can you?” she said harshly. Tobias seemed to crumple.

“Uh…no, I’m sorry, I don’t think so.”

Lindsay’s eyes widened. Had she just married someone who couldn’t have sex with her? “Well, there must be something you can do,” she said desperately. “Have you tried therapy?”

“There aren’t any therapists that treat it in the States, it’s not recognized as a real condition there. But it’s real, there are several countries in Europe that recognize it.”

“This is crazy,” she said weakly. She couldn’t leave him days after their wedding, it would be humiliating, especially after she’d spent months defending her choice to her parents. “Well, can’t you treat yourself? I mean, you  _are_  training to be a therapist.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that.”

“So, what, you’re not even going to try?” she said, her voice becoming shrill.

“I  _am_ trying, it’s not as easy as it sounds! I know it’s hard for someone without this condition to understand, but there isn’t some simple solution—”

“How could you not tell me about this?! This is critical information!”

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he said earnestly.

“Yeah, well, you’re going to figure this out, there must be some therapist that can treat you.”

“I don’t know—”

“Yes! You’re going to figure this out, okay?!” she said desperately. Tobias flinched. She almost felt sorry for him, but she was so upset she couldn’t think of anything else. She suddenly felt pathetic in her lingerie. She got off the bed and stalked off to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Tobias asked.

“To change!” she snapped, her eyes filling with tears again. “And then I’m—then I’m going for a walk.” She couldn’t spend one more minute in this hotel room with him, she needed to get out and clear her head.

“But it’s raining.”

“Then I’ll bring an umbrella.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

 _“No!”_  she said angrily, slamming the bathroom door behind her.


	39. Part 2, Chapter 16

**June, 1990**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9FhRQt1vm3A) sat in the hospital bed with his arm around Tracey, staring in awe at their new baby in her arms.

“Look at him,” Tracey said softly, smiling down at George Michael. George Michael reached up, grasping at her now shoulder-length hair with his tiny fist. Michael and Tracey both laughed. “Hi, baby,” she whispered. She looked over at Michael, her eyes shining with tears. “Do you want to hold him now?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. He carefully took George Michael from her, terrified of hurting him, he looked so fragile. He looked down at his little face and smiled when George Michael looked back up at him with wide eyes.  _This is_ our  _son_ , he thought. All theirs. He remembered when Tracey had first told him she was pregnant, how terrified he’d been. It seemed so ridiculous now. This was exactly what he wanted, all he could ever want. Just him and Tracey and their son, the three of them making up their own little family. Tracey leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm more tightly around her. He didn’t think he’d ever felt closer to her than he did at that moment.

“We’re going to make good parents, aren’t we?” she murmured.

Michael smiled. “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DWeKn321SE) stared at Tobias across the table with wide eyes, astonished that he could inadvertently make eating a breadstick look that sexual. Tracey had had her baby two days earlier and Lindsay and Tobias were visiting her and Michael in Berkeley. Tonight Tobias had surprised Lindsay by taking her out on a date in San Francisco. She appreciated the gesture, which was unusual for him, but she was starting to wish they’d just stayed in the hotel. She still had no idea what to make of Tobias’s embarrassing habit of saying and doing things in a decidedly homoerotic way. When they’d first started dating she’d thought it was some kind of weird joke, but it had quickly become clear that it was entirely unintentional.

“Hey, maybe don’t eat that breadstick like that,” she said, unable to take it anymore.

“Like what?”

“Like, you kind of lick it before you take a bite.”

“Oh,” he said, and proceeded to eat it in a different but somehow even more suggestive way.

“How about you just stop eating the breadsticks for now?” she said quickly.

“Um, okay,” he laughed confusedly, putting the breadstick down.

“This is a nice place,” she said in an effort to change the subject. “Can’t wait for the food to arrive.”

“Me, too.”

“It was nice of you to take me out tonight,” she said, smiling at him.

“Of course,” he said, smiling back.

Lindsay looked down and twisted the edge of the tablecloth in her fingers, trying to decide if it was the right time to bring it up. Earlier that day she had decided that she was ready to have a baby. She knew it was a little soon, but the more she thought about it the more she wanted it. Seeing how happy Michael and Tracey were over the last few days had made her want that for herself. Things had been improving with Tobias. When they’d gotten back from the disastrous honeymoon she’d convinced him to see a therapist. He was right that there didn’t seem to be any therapists in the United States that treated never-nudism specifically, but they had found one that specialized in phobias and it seemed to be helping a little. They’d had sex three times now. It hadn’t exactly been satisfying—he pretty much just lay there, and the first two times he’d ended up crying. But she was optimistic that it would get better with time, and she appreciated that he was at least trying. She still felt a little like she’d been lied to, but she knew it was only because he’d been too embarrassed to tell her about his condition, and besides, sex wasn’t everything. Less than a year ago she’d been so excited about their relationship. She wanted to get that feeling back, and she was hoping a baby would help.

“So,” she said slowly, still not looking up from the tablecloth. “I’ve been thinking that I want to start trying for a baby.” She looked cautiously up at him. The surprise was plain on his face.

“A baby?” he said.

“Yes,” she said tentatively, discouraged by his reaction.

“With me?”

“Yes, with you,” she laughed nervously. “What do you think?”

“Um…yes. Yes,” he said. He seemed to genuinely mean it.

“Really?” she said excitedly.

“Sure, why not?” he said, smiling.

“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a little soon, but I don’t really see any point in waiting.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“Great,” she said, smiling widely. She hesitated, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “That  _does_  mean we’re going to have to have sex more often than we are right now.”

“Not a problem,” he said quickly.

“Really?” she said skeptically.

“Yes, I—I’ve been making a lot of progress, I think, it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

Lindsay couldn’t help but feel a little stung.  _Not as bad?_  It wasn’t like he was anything special, far from it. But he was talking about being undressed, not the sex itself, though he didn’t seem to be too interested in that either.

“Listen, I…I really appreciate how patient you’ve been with me,” Tobias said uncomfortably. Her annoyance evaporated.

“Of course,” she said, smiling at him. “I really do love you. I know we’ve had kind of a rocky start, but I think things are going to get better.”

“Me, too,” he said eagerly. “I really love you, too.”

She smiled at him and reached across the table and held his hand.


	40. Part 2, Chapter 17

**October, 1990**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFG6gGBiwNE) watched the red light hanging in the dusty purple evening sky above him, suddenly realizing just how nice it was to be sitting in the car alone in silence. But then the light changed to green and he had to continue on his way home.

His class had just gotten out early. He felt a little guilty about it but he actually wished it hadn’t. The school year had started up again a month earlier and he and Tracey were both feeling stretched to the limit, to the point where it was kind of a relief to be in class. It had been hard enough taking care of a newborn baby in the summer, but now that they were both adding busy school schedules on top of that it was nearly impossible. Between staying up late almost every night studying and getting up every few hours to stop George Michael from crying, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt fully rested. He and Tracey had both been determined to take enough classes every term to graduate on time, but he was starting to think that was unrealistic.

Not that they weren’t happy. They were both still over the moon about being parents, and he loved George Michael just as much as he had the day he was born. But he was looking forward to when he was a little older. This was starting to strain his relationship with Tracey. They were constantly getting in little arguments now. He was sure most of it was just stress, but there were some clear points of contention. The biggest thing was that Tracey was a little careless with George Michael. She was always getting distracted when she was supposed to be watching him and Michael was constantly having to intervene to keep him from falling off the bed or swallowing things he wasn’t supposed to, so that he never really felt like he got a break. But whenever he suggested that she needed to make some changes she seemed to take it as a personal insult and he quickly retreated, so they hadn’t been able to have any real discussion about it.

He arrived at their apartment building and parked the car, then got out and climbed up the stairs to their room. He sighed when he heard George Michael crying inside. He took out his key, opened the door, and stepped into the apartment and set his backpack down on the couch. George Michael was still crying at full volume. He reluctantly decided that he should probably go take over for Tracey, who had been there on her own for a while.

“Tracey?” he said as he went to the nursery, but when he stepped inside she wasn’t there. He went over to George Michael’s crib and picked him up.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, rocking him. “Shh, shh… What’s wrong? Are you hungry? Yeah, let’s go find Mommy.” He carried him out of the room. “Tracey?” he called again, but there was still no answer. He checked the bedroom, thinking she might be taking a nap and have somehow slept through George Michael’s crying, but she wasn’t in there either. Had she left George Michael here alone?

Thankfully, George Michael had stopped crying. “Aww, you were just lonely, weren’t you?” Michael said affectionately, carrying him back to his room. He rocked him back and forth, watching him slowly drift back to sleep. Where the hell was Tracey?

Two minutes later he heard the front door open. He carefully put George Michael back in his crib and went to the kitchen, where Tracey was putting away groceries.

“Oh, you’re home,” she said when she saw him.

“Yeah, class got out early,” he said, keeping his voice down so as not to wake up George Michael again. “Where were you?”

“We were out of milk so I ran to the store,” she said.

“You just left George Michael here alone?”

“I was only gone for twenty minutes. He was asleep and I didn’t want to take him with me and wake him up.”

“You can’t do that,” Michael said incredulously.

“It was only twenty minutes!”

“It doesn’t matter, you can’t leave a baby home alone!”

“He’s fine!”

“Yeah, luckily.”

“Luckily? What do you think was going to happen?”

“I don’t know, anything could have happened. What if there was a fire?”

“A fire? Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” he said angrily, picturing George Michael alone in the burning apartment with no way to get out.

“It was twenty minutes! And I wouldn’t have had to go the store in the first place if you had remembered to buy milk!”

“I didn’t know we were out of it because you didn’t leave a note! That’s why you always leave a note!”

“Oh my god,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Look, it’s fine, just don’t do it again, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever, fuck you,” she said, pushing past him on her way out of the kitchen.

Michael watched her walk down the hallway, stunned. “Hey, Tracey,” he said, following her.

“Please, just, I just need to sleep, I’ve had a long day,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” Michael said as she closed the bedroom door in his face. He stood in the hallway for a moment, shocked that she had said that to him. He should probably apologize when she woke up. But he hadn’t done anything wrong, she was the one who had left their baby at home all by himself when Michael had trusted her to stay with him. He turned and walked angrily back to the living room. All he’d done was ask her not to do it again, why did she have to take it so personally?

He sat down on the couch where he’d left his backpack, thinking he should get started on the essay that was due the next morning. He groaned inwardly. He was probably going to be up late again tonight. But before he could finish unzipping his backpack he heard George Michael crying again.

“Fantastic,” he muttered to himself, and got up and went back to the nursery.


	41. Part 2, Chapter 18

**January, 1991**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZwtWExDmoI) lay awake in the dark bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. The sounds of the traffic outside sounded especially clear in the icy stillness of the room. She shivered. It was her first winter in Boston and she had not yet adjusted to the change in climate. She looked over at Tobias lying next to her, wondering if she could get him to have sex with her tonight, or at least cuddle a little. She felt so unwanted right now it was killing her. She listened to his breathing, trying to discern if he was still awake. She couldn’t distinguish any slow, rhythmic breathing that would indicate that he was asleep.

“It’s so cold,” she said hopefully.

“Mm,” he agreed. She waited for a few seconds.

“Really cold,” she added.

“Yeah, it is,” he mumbled. She rolled her eyes.

“Maybe you could cuddle with me and warm me up?” she suggested.

“Oh. Okay, sure,” he said, and rolled over and awkwardly wrapped his arms around her.

“Much better,” she said, smiling at him. She tentatively leaned in and kissed him, praying he wouldn’t refuse tonight. She felt him cringe, but he kissed her back. She climbed on top of him and started to take off her top.

“Lindsay, please, not tonight,” he said.

Lindsay stopped and looked down at him, trying to fight back the now-familiar pain of rejection. She rolled off of him and flopped back down onto the bed.

“How am I supposed to get pregnant if you won’t have sex with me?” she muttered. They’d been trying for seven months now with no luck.

“I have been during your fertile window, but that was last week, we don’t need to right now.”

“You act like it’s a chore!” she said. She sat up, her eyes filling with tears.

“Come on, Lindsay, you know it’s difficult for me—”

“No, that’s the problem!” she said, surprised by the sudden anger she felt. “I  _didn’t_  know until after we were married, because you didn’t fucking tell me!”

“I’ve been trying, I’ve been going to therapy—”

“You shouldn’t  _need_  to go to therapy, do you even realize how lucky you are to be married to me?!”

“Oh, sure, you’re every man’s dream.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“It means that I have spent the last year trying and trying to make you happy and nothing I do is ever good enough for you!”

“You’re damn right it isn’t!” she shrieked. Her words hung in the air. She could see that she’d really hurt him. Good, he had hurt her. She got off the bed and angrily stalked towards the door.

“Where are you going?” he said.

“To the guest room, I’m sleeping there tonight. And every night, I don’t want to sleep in the same room as you anymore!” she said angrily, slamming the door behind her.


	42. Part 2, Chapter 19

**December, 1991**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqkRBnjWGPg) sat curled up on the couch, looking through a catalogue of baby clothes. It was her twenty-third birthday. Tobias was at the hospital, having unexpectedly been called for an overnight shift, so she was on her own. She was feeling a little down. Birthdays always put her in a bad mood. When she was a kid her parents had always gone all out on her birthday, and now that she was older she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed every year when it didn’t measure up to that previous standard.

On top of that she was four months pregnant. After a year of trying and many nasty fights, they’d gone to a fertility specialist and learned that Tobias was infertile. With some considerable financial help from her parents that her mother still complained about every time she talked to her, they’d tried numerous fertility treatments and were eventually able to conceive. She was a little afraid to admit it even to herself, but the further she got in her pregnancy the more terrified she became. Not just of giving birth, though that fear was certainly weighing on her, but also of motherhood itself. They’d just found out they were having a girl two weeks earlier. She had thought finding out the gender would make her happy, especially since she’d been hoping for a girl, but instead it had sent her into a spiraling panic as she realized that this was really happening. She wasn’t ready to be a mother, she didn’t  _want_  to be a mother. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking. She’d decided she wanted a baby on a whim, and when they couldn’t conceive it had become just one more thing Tobias couldn’t give her, and she’d convinced herself that she desperately wanted a baby just to have another reason to be mad at him. But now she was actually pregnant and she didn’t know what to do.

She set the catalogue down on the couch. Picking out cute little dresses for the baby was one of the few things that cheered her up, but it wasn’t working tonight. She got up and turned up the thermostat, then went to the kitchen and started making herself a cup of coffee just to warm herself up. It was December and the apartment was deathly cold. She sat down at the kitchen table and looked out the window at the icy street below. The trees were glowing with Christmas lights and the streetlamps were wrapped in garlands and red ribbons. It was only five o’clock but the sky was already pitch black. She hated how early it got dark in the winters here.

The phone rang on the counter. She got up and answered it.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hi, Lindsay, it’s Michael.”

She cursed silently. She’d meant to call him earlier, wanting to be the first one to call him on their birthday for once, but she’d forgotten. “Hi, I was just going to call you,” she said. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, you too!”

“Thanks.”

“How are you?” he asked. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been really busy,” she said guiltily. It was true that she hadn’t called him in months. “I’m doing well. I’m really excited about the baby.”

“That’s great,” he said warmly. “When do you find out the gender?”

“Oh, we already did,” she said, realizing she’d never gotten around to calling him. “It’s a girl.”

“Oh!” he said, surprised. “Wow, congratulations!”

“Thanks.”

“How long have you known?”

“Uh, about two weeks.”

“Two weeks?”

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I should have called you,” she said guiltily. She’d meant to call him when she found out but she’d kept putting it off. She was feeling so lost in her own life at the moment that she hated hearing about his, with his perfect wife and perfect son.

“Yeah,” he laughed, clearly hurt. “Well, that’s great! Were you hoping for a girl?”

“Yes, I’m really happy about it.”

“Great,” he said. “Wow, a little niece.”

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. She wiped them away, surprised by the sudden emotion. It was just that she could tell that he really meant it, that he genuinely hoped she was happy.  _Just hormones,_  she told herself.

“Have you been thinking of names yet?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ve narrowed it down to a few. I’m thinking something cute like Daisy or Maeby.”

“Maybe? Like the word ‘maybe?’”

“No, M-A-E-B-Y.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s nice,” he said unconvincingly.

“Yeah, I really like it,” she said, thinking it was way better than ‘George Michael.’

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me,” Michael said after a pause.

“I’m sorry, okay?” she snapped, wishing he would just drop it.

“No, I’m not mad, it’s just… We never talk anymore. I haven’t seen you since George Michael was born, and even then I barely saw you.”

“Yeah, well, I live on the other side of the country now,” she said guiltily.

“I know, but we should try to keep in touch more. Maybe you could visit sometime? Or I could go there, either way.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she said, feeling another rush of emotion. “Yeah, I’ll look at my calendar and find a date when I can come out and see you,” she added impulsively. As soon as she said it she regretted it. She didn’t want to see him, she really didn’t want to see Tracey and George Michael. She just liked the earnestness in his voice, that he really missed her and wanted to see her.

“Great,” Michael said eagerly. “Yeah, both of you are welcome any time.”

“Oh, I don’t know if Tobias can get out of work. I’ll probably come on my own.” The last thing she wanted was Tobias embarrassing her in front of Michael and his wife.

“Oh, okay. Well, we’d love to have you here.”

“Thanks,” she said, still not sure if this was what she wanted, but it was too late to change her mind now. “Yeah, I’ll look at my calendar.”

“Great. Thanks, Lindsay.”

“Sure, it will be fun,” she said, resting her head on her hand. She suddenly felt exhausted. “Listen, I have to go,” she lied.

“Oh, okay. Well, happy birthday again. And congratulations!”

“Thanks, you too. I mean, happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, bye,” she said impatiently.

“Bye,” he said, and hung up.


	43. Part 2, Chapter 20

**February, 1992**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5XptSCCciU) glanced at her reflection in the dark window as she walked through the San Francisco airport, trailing her suitcase behind her. She tried to straighten her hair with her hand but it didn’t do much good. She’d done some touch-up in the bathroom after she’d gotten off the plane but she still wasn’t looking her best after traveling all day.

Michael would be there to pick her up. The thought of seeing him again sent waves of panic through her. She didn’t know why, it was only Michael, but it had been almost two years since she’d last seen him. She hoped Tracey wouldn’t be there with him. She pulled her suitcase onto the escalator and ran her hand through her hair again and straightened her shirt. She was six months pregnant now and really showing. She wished she’d come a little sooner, she didn’t like looking so big.

“Lindsay!”

She turned around. There he was, smiling up at her and walking towards the bottom of the escalator. The emotion that hit her when she saw his face surprised her.  _Get a grip,_  she told herself.

“Michael!” she said, smiling back. She reached the bottom of the escalator and hugged him. He kissed her cheek. She tried to keep the surprise from showing on her face. He hadn’t done that since high school.

“Wow, look at you,” he said, looking at her pregnant belly, then reddened, looking embarrassed at having commented on her body.

“Yeah, I know,” she laughed, a little amused.

“Here, I’ll get that,” he said, taking her suitcase from her. She felt a little fluttering sensation. It was the kind of small gentlemanly thing Tobias never did.

“How was your flight?” Michael asked as they walked through the airport.

“Good. Long.”

They walked through the revolving doors and out into the cool night air. It was cold and windy and she could feel little flecks of rain hitting her face, but it felt good on her skin compared to the Boston winter. She glanced at Michael in the bright fluorescent lights of the airport. It was strange seeing him after all this time. He was still more familiar to her than anyone, but he did look a little different, a little older and more strained. She wondered if she looked different to him.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. He looked up at her and smiled. God, she loved that smile.

“It’s good to see you, too,” he said.

 

* * *

 

Michael glanced over at Lindsay sitting in the passenger seat as he drove home from the airport. She was leaning against the door and looking out the window, the city lights playing across her face. It was strange to be sitting in this car with her after being apart for so long. She’d always been such an important part of his life, but in the last few years she’d all but vanished from it.

“So how have you been doing?” he asked, partly just to break the awkward silence. “How do you like Boston?”

Lindsay looked over at him, the expression on her face almost alarmed. “It’s good,” she said. “Yeah, I really like it.”

“Good. What about Tobias, how’s he doing?”

“He’s good, too. He’s been really busy with his residency program at Mass General.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Michael said, fairly certain she was saying this to impress him, but he didn’t mind. “You both must be excited about the baby. When’s the due date?”

“May.”

“Wow,” he said. He waited for her to say something else, but she was looking out the window again, apparently done talking. He felt a flicker of annoyance. He couldn’t do all the work.

“Do you have any music?” she asked after a long pause.

“Uh, yeah, there are some CD’s in here,” he said, gesturing towards the center compartment. She opened it and looked through the CD’s.

“What’s with all this country music?” she asked.

He laughed. “It’s Tracey’s. She’s a big country fan.”

“Oh, god,” Lindsay laughed.

“It’s not bad, actually, it grows on you.”

She laughed again. “You need rescuing. Ah, here we go.” She pulled a CD out and put it into the player and flipped through the tracks.

[“Oh](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t7ElEHJpvNs) yeah, I like this one,” Michael said, recognizing the introduction of “Until the End of the World” by U2.

“Me too. This whole album is so good.”

“Yeah, I think it’s their best one yet,” he agreed.

Lindsay turned up the volume. Michael smiled, remembering how she used to blast the music when they were driving to and from school. He was glad she was here. When he’d found out that she hadn’t called him when she’d learned the gender of her baby he’d realized just how far they’d drifted apart. He didn’t know anything about what was going on in her life anymore. He hadn’t known she and Tobias were even trying to have a baby until she’d called him to tell him she was pregnant. He’d only heard about their infertility struggles later when his mother complained to him on the phone about how much the treatments had cost. He had no idea what to make of her marriage. He still couldn’t figure out why she’d married Tobias, though he didn’t have much to go on since he barely knew the guy. He couldn’t tell if she was happy with him or not. There had been that strange episode before her wedding and she always seemed to shut down whenever Michael brought him up, but she’d gone to great lengths to have a baby with him, which would seem to indicate that she wanted to stay with him. He didn’t even know if she’d changed in any way since high school. He certainly felt like he was a different person, but he’d talked to Lindsay so little over the last four and a half years that he had no idea if she’d changed at all.

“Do you remember going to see them?” Lindsay asked suddenly.

“U2?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, it was right after our sixteenth birthday, right?” he said, remembering how excited Lindsay had been when she’d found out they were playing in Long Beach two days after her sweet sixteen.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said. “That was so fun.”

Michael laughed. “Maybe for you. All I remember is that you met some guy there and ditched me.”

She laughed. “Oh yeah.”

“And then when Dad came to pick us up and found out I let you run off with some stranger he flipped out and grounded me. But not you.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, you don’t remember?”

“No. I remember the guy.”

He laughed. “Figures.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” she said, laughing as well.

Michael smiled. This was more like it used to be.

“We should go to a concert together again sometime, that was fun,” Lindsay said.

“Sure,” Michael said, surprised. “Maybe next time we visit each other.”

“Yeah, we should. I promise I won’t abandon you again,” she teased.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he laughed. “Maybe I could go to Boston next time, and Tracey and George Michael, too. George Michael can meet his cousin.”

“Oh yeah. Sure.”

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

“Yeah, I’m going with Maeby.”

“That’s nice,” Michael said. He didn’t like the name much himself, but he was happy Lindsay was finally having a baby after trying for so long. He was a little apprehensive about her being a mother, as she’d never exactly been a responsible person, but he was hoping that would change when the baby was born. And it would be nice to be able to talk to her about parenthood, and for George Michael to have a cousin to play with. He hoped he and Lindsay would keep in touch more so that would be possible.

“Are you excited?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Lindsay said nonchalantly. “I mostly just want to get her out of me at this point, I hate being so huge.”

“Nah, they look great,” Michael said. His heart skipped a beat when he caught his mistake. “I mean, you look great,” he said quickly. He glanced over at Lindsay, praying she hadn’t noticed, but her lips were spread in a wide gloating smile.

“Whoa…” she said.

“Shut up,” Michael laughed uncomfortably, his face growing warm.

 

* * *

 

[“Well,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrUDT4HJCFU) here we are,” Michael said as he and Lindsay got out of the car.

Lindsay stood up and looked at the apartments as he got her suitcase out of the car, curious to see where he lived. It was hard to get a complete picture in the dark, but she could make out rows of buildings and a small playground a little ways away.

“Tracey’s at her Women in Business meeting, so she won’t be back until ten,” Michael said, pulling her suitcase over to her. “Our neighbor’s there watching George Michael right now.”

They walked down the sidewalk towards the stairs of the nearest building. Lindsay was glad Tracey wasn’t home. She was really enjoying spending time with Michael now. She didn’t know why she’d been so nervous about this visit before.

“Here it is,” Michael said after they’d reached the top of the stairs and come to a door. “Hopefully George Michael will be asleep, so we should be quiet.” He took out his key and opened the door and they went inside. There was a light-haired woman in her mid-twenties sitting on the couch watching TV. She turned it off when they came in.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully.

“Hi, Christine,” Michael said. “This is my sister, Lindsay. Lindsay, this is our neighbor, Christine.”

“Nice to meet you,” Christine said.

“Thanks, you too,” Lindsay said.

“Thanks for staying here,” Michael said. “Did he sleep the whole time?”

“Yep, didn’t make a sound.”

“Great. Well, see you around.”

“Yeah, good night,” she said, getting up and heading towards the door. “Tell Tracey I said hi.”

“I will. Good night.”

Christine left and closed the door behind her.

“She and her husband have a one-year-old. We take turns watching each other’s kids,” Michael explained. “Sorry the place is such a mess, I didn’t have time to do much cleaning.”

“No, it’s fine,” Lindsay said, looking around the apartment. It was a lot smaller than hers. With her father’s help she and Tobias had been able to afford a three-bedroom house so they could continue to sleep in separate bedrooms when the baby was born, an arrangement that had significantly improved their marriage.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” Michael asked.

“Uh, I’ll just have water. Thanks.”                                                                   

“Yeah, sure.”

They went to the kitchen and Michael got her a glass of water.

“I still feel like I have no idea what’s been going on in your life,” he said. “What have you been up to?”

“Uh…” Lindsay said, thinking she hadn’t been up to much of anything. She wished he would stop asking so many questions. She didn’t like talking about anything that had happened to her since 1987, or anything that had happened to him for that matter. “I’ve been getting really into political activism,” she said finally, thinking she’d at least be okay with talking about that. She was very proud of all the political and charitable endeavors she’d recently undertaken.

“Oh yeah, Mom told me you were involved in some anti-war protests?”

“Yeah, we picketed an air force base in Massachusetts,” she said proudly.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I think we really made a difference. Lately I’ve been organizing my own fundraisers. I’m working on a wine and cheese fundraiser to send aid to Samoa right now.”

“What’s going on in Samoa?”

“There’s a famine there,” she said importantly. “And a war, too, I think.”

“In Samoa?”

“Yeah, they’re all starving to death and the U.S. isn’t doing anything about it.”

“I haven’t heard about that.”

“You see, that’s the problem, the media just isn’t covering it! And it’s not just there, there are famines and wars all over Africa.”

“Wait, do you mean Somalia?”

“What?”

“There’s a famine in Somalia, Samoa’s an island in the Pacific.”

Lindsay looked at him blankly for a second. “Oh,” she laughed, embarrassed. “Right, yeah, I meant Somalia. Well, anyway, I think we’re going to raise a lot of money to help them.”

“That’s great. So are you coming back to California after Tobias finishes his residency program?”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “No, I don’t think so, there’s no plan for that right now.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. The disappointment in his voice made her feel a rush of warmth towards him.

“What about you, where are you going to go?” she asked. “When do you graduate anyway?” He was already in his fifth year of college, having had to cut down his class schedule to take care of George Michael.

“This spring, thank god. Same with Tracey. Then we’re going back to LA. Dad offered me a job at the Bluth Company.”

Lindsay laughed loudly. “You’re going to work for Dad?”

“Shh,” Michael reminded her, glancing down the hallway at what was presumably the door to George Michael’s room.

“Oh, right, sorry,” she said more quietly.

“It’s fine,” he laughed. “Yeah, I know it’s not ideal, but it’s a good job considering that I don’t have any experience yet. And it’s just temporary, once I get some experience I’ll look for something else.”

“It’s just, you and Dad, that’s a bad combination. You know he’s going to treat you horribly to get you to work harder.”

“I know he’ll want to, but I won’t give him any reason because I’ll work hard anyway.”

Lindsay laughed again involuntarily at this.

“Shh!” he said.

“Oh, sorry.” She heard George Michael crying from down the hallway. “Oh no, I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed.

He sighed. “Don’t worry, happens  _all_  the time,” he said, smiling at her. “Be right back.”

He left the kitchen. Lindsay leaned back against the counter and looked at the fridge, which had various pictures of Michael and Tracey with friends she didn’t recognize, pictures of George Michael, wedding pictures taken before the fire mishap… It all looked so grown-up. It was somewhat unsettling. It wasn’t right, they were too young for this. She walked over to the couch and sat down. It sounded like George Michael was calming down now. She was glad, she felt embarrassed about waking him up. A few minutes later Michael came back in.

“Hey,” she said, careful to be quieter now. “He went back to sleep?”

“Yeah. He cries a lot but he usually calms down pretty quickly. Sometimes he just wants to be held for a little while, it’s really sweet.”

“Aw,” Lindsay said, more charmed by Michael’s earnestness than George Michael.

“In a few months this will be you,” Michael said, sitting down next to her on the couch.

“Yeah,” Lindsay said, trying to fake some enthusiasm, though the thought sent a fresh wave of panic through her.

“Nervous?” Michael asked, apparently seeing through it.

Lindsay opened her mouth to deny it, but then closed it. It would be nice to share her fears with someone. “Yeah, a little,” she said.

“Don’t worry. I was really nervous too, but once they’re born that all goes away.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if we’ll be the same there,” Lindsay muttered. She blushed at the look of surprise on Michael’s face. “I mean, I  _am_  really excited,” she said quickly, embarrassed. “I’ve wanted this for a long time. Really long.”

“Oh yeah, Mom told me you two were having trouble…”

“Yeah. It was his problem, not mine.”

Michael raised his eyebrows and laughed. “Uh, okay. I don’t think that really matters.”

“Yeah, well,” she said. He was right, it wasn’t Tobias’s fault, but so much else was. She thought about Tracey’s accidental pregnancy and laughed. “Guess we kind of had the opposite problem there, huh?”

Michael laughed, his face turning a little pink. “Yeah, guess so. It all worked out, though. For both of us.”

“Mm hm,” she agreed, though she was thinking that she wasn’t so sure about that.

“How are things going with you and Tobias?” Michael asked hesitantly.

“Uh, fine,” she said, caught off guard. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, I was just asking.”

“They’re great,” she lied.

“Great.”

She hesitated. She’d gotten so used to lying to him and the rest of her family about her relationship with Tobias that it was hard to break the habit, but she did miss being able to share her problems with him, and talking to him like this was reminding her of when she could do that. “I mean, they could be better,” she said tentatively, but it was such an understatement that it still felt like a lie. “No, they’re bad, just really bad.” She looked up at Michael’s surprised expression and laughed sadly.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Uh…” she said, not sure how much she wanted to tell him. “We’ve just been fighting a lot.”

“Well, that’s normal, all couples fight.”

“Do you and Tracey?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“Yeah, uh… Yeah, a lot, actually.”

“What about?” she said, surprised. They’d always seemed happy to her, though she’d only seen them together on a handful of occasions.

“Uh… Mostly about George Michael. We have very different parenting styles. I think most of it’s just stress.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. I can’t believe you both stayed in school.”

“Tell me about it. I feel so guilty about putting George Michael in daycare all the time.”

“Don’t worry about that. We were pretty much raised by Rosa and we turned out fine.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t really want to use Mom and Dad as the standard of good parenting, though. I don’t know. We’re both only taking as many credits as we need to graduate by the end of the year, but we’re still too busy to take care of him all the time. And she’s still doing a double major, I don’t know why she won’t just drop one. And now she’s applying to jobs in LA…”

“You’re both working?”

“Yep. We don’t need to, my salary at the Bluth Company will be enough for the three of us, but she really wants to. I don’t know, I guess I could be the one to take a break from working for a while, but I don’t really want to either. And it makes sense, she worked really hard to get where she is, she doesn’t want it to be for nothing.”

“Jeez,” Lindsay said. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe we’re related.”

Michael laughed. “What, you and Tobias never fight about who gets to work?”

“Not exactly,” she laughed.

“Yeah, I guess it’s kind of a stupid thing to fight about.” He laughed. “So what about you, what’s going on in your marriage?”

She laughed. “Uh… I don’t know, we just fight a lot. Nothing specific, really.” She briefly considered telling him about Tobias being a never-nude, or her growing suspicion that he was gay, but she still couldn’t, it was too embarrassing. Michael looked a little disappointed at her evasive answer, but he smiled at her anyway.

“Well, if you ever want to talk about it you can call me.”

“Thanks, I will,” she said, smiling back. She had no idea if she actually meant it. She felt a small kick inside her. “Hey, she’s moving,” she said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just started feeling her a few weeks ago.” She hesitated. “Do you want to feel?”

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He awkwardly put his hand on her stomach. His touch sent a shiver through her.

“No, you’ve got to go lower,” she said boldly, putting her hand on his and moving it lower on her abdomen. She felt him tense, but he smiled when he felt the baby moving.

“Oh yeah,” he said excitedly.

“That’s your niece,” she said, her heart beating quickly. She kept her hand on his just to see if he would let her. He didn’t. She saw his smile falter and then he gently pulled his hand out from under hers and returned it to his side. There was an awkward silence. “Yeah, I am excited,” Lindsay said in an attempt to diffuse the tension, wondering what she’d been thinking. “It’s just hard to believe, you know, that I’m going to have my own little daughter.”

Michael smiled, looking reassured. “Yeah, it does take some getting used to.”

Lindsay sighed, looking down at the wedding ring on his finger. “It’s all so crazy,” she said. “We’re barely twenty-three. It feels like everything’s moving so fast.”

“Yeah, I feel like that too, sometimes.”

Lindsay’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to blink them away before he could see, but then she thought about how much had changed since he’d left for college and how simple things had been back then and she couldn’t keep from crying.

“What’s wrong?” he said, surprised.

“Nothing,” she laughed shakily. “It’s just hormones. I’ve been a fountain of tears lately.”

“Uh, okay,” he laughed confusedly.

“It’s just, I’ve missed you,” she said before she could stop herself. She looked up at him. The surprise in his face made her wish she hadn’t said it, but then he smiled warmly at her.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said.

“You have?” she choked, just so he would say it again.

“Yeah, like crazy,” he said earnestly, which only made her cry more. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, clearly surprised by this sudden display of emotion. He hesitated, then awkwardly wrapped his arm around her, just like he used to do. She leaned against him without hesitation, she didn’t care if it made him uncomfortable. She closed her eyes and pretended they were sitting on her bed in Newport Beach, before any of the last four and a half years had happened, and she knew she still wasn’t over him. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever wanted him to kiss her as much as she did at that moment. But it had never been so unlikely. She knew that some part of him still had feelings for her but he would never cheat on Tracey, especially not with his sister. Even before he’d gotten married he hadn’t been able to get past that, but now it was just impossible. How had things gotten like this?

They both jumped at the sound of the door opening. Lindsay sat up and frantically wiped her tears away. Michael quickly pulled away from her, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Hi, Tracey,” he said as Tracey came in through the door.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully. “Lindsay, you’re here! How was your flight?”

“Great,” Lindsay said, praying she wouldn’t be able to tell she’d been crying, but the way Tracey’s smile faltered when she saw her face told her she could. “How was your meeting?” she said quickly in an attempt to act normal to cover it up.

“Uh, good, thank you,” Tracey said, clearly embarrassed at having walked in on this emotional scene. “Well, you must be tired, we’ll let you get some sleep. Michael, can you set up the bed for her?”

“Yeah, sure,” Michael said quickly, looking embarrassed as well.

“Great, thanks,” Tracey said, heading down the hallway. “Well, good night, Lindsay, it’s so nice to see you.”

“Thanks, you too,” Lindsay said, feeling like she should be grateful for her tactful exit, but all she could feel was overwhelming frustration that she’d interrupted them.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrK-IxLv-LU) watched with mild aversion as George Michael stuffed spaghetti into his mouth, smearing red sauce all over his face in the process. Michael was at class and she was stuck eating lunch with Tracey and George Michael. Tracey laughed, noticing Lindsay watching him.

“Yeah, he can get a little messy,” Tracey said, getting up and going to the kitchen. She got a wash rag and ran some water over it in the sink. “I really should stop giving him spaghetti, but it’s his favorite.” She returned to the table and wiped George Michael’s face and hands. “There we go, all clean,” she said, sitting back down.

“Do you know when Michael will be back?” Lindsay asked.

“Um, about an hour. Sorry we’ve been kind of in and out today, it’s midterms week. I think we’re going to do something this weekend, Michael probably has something planned.”

“No problem. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course, anytime. It will be nice to spend some time with you. I still feel like I barely know you. I mean, I’ve heard a lot from Michael, but…”

“Good things, I hope,” Lindsay said, wondering what Michael had told her. Regardless, she doubted Tracey had a positive opinion of her given her behavior at her wedding.

“Yes, of course,” Tracey laughed. She laughed way too much, Lindsay decided. “So he told me you’re having a girl?”

“Yep,” Lindsay said. Why was this the only thing people wanted to talk to her about now?

“Oh, that’s so nice. Have you decided on a name yet?”

“Yes, Maeby.”

“What are you thinking of?”

“Uh, Maeby. Oh, not the word ‘maybe,’ M-A-E-B-Y.”

“Oh!” Tracey laughed, looking embarrassed. “I like that, it’s cute.”

“Thanks.”

“I guess she and George Michael will be about the same age. That’s so nice, they can be friends.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Hi!” George Michael said suddenly.

“Hi, baby!” Tracey said to him. “He doesn’t like to be left out,” she said to Lindsay, smiling affectionately at George Michael. Lindsay laughed uncomfortably. She wasn’t good with little kids. “George Michael, this is Aunt Lindsay,” Tracey said. “Can you say Lindsay?  _Lind-say_?”

“Li,” he said.

Tracey laughed. “Close enough. He’s been getting better at learning words. Michael’s been going crazy with the phonics training stuff, I think he’s already trying to prepare him for Harvard.”

Lindsay forced a laugh. She didn’t like hearing Tracey talk about Michael. She couldn’t do this anymore, she needed a break.

“I think I’m going to go for a walk, get some fresh air,” she said, standing up.

“Oh,” Tracey said, surprised. “Do you want me to join you?”

“No,” she said quickly. “That’s okay, I’m sure you have a lot to do,” she added, realizing that might have sounded rude. “Thanks, though.”

“Sure, enjoy your walk,” she said. Lindsay thought she looked slightly offended, but it was hard to tell.

“Thanks,” she said, heading towards the door. She quickly put on her shoes and went outside. She closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment, unsure where to go. The sky was pale gray and there was a slight breeze. She hoped it wasn’t going to rain, she wanted to stay out as long as possible. She walked down the stairs. She could just follow the sidewalk for a while. She didn’t much care where she went, as long as she was out of that apartment.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and set off down the sidewalk. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much. It wasn’t just jealousy. That was probably part of it, but it wasn’t what caused the overwhelming sense of unease she felt when she was in there. Maybe it was just seeing how much Michael’s life had changed without her, or comparing his life to hers, or the heartbreaking realization that Tracey was a much more important part of his life than she was now. She wished she hadn’t come here. It had felt so good to talk to him the night before, but then Tracey had come home and ruined it, and she didn’t know if she would be alone with him again on this trip. Even if she was it wouldn’t be the same. She didn’t feel like opening up to him anymore. She just wanted to leave, though she didn’t really want to go home either.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs5wIJlUK1o) stood on the sidewalk with Michael as Tracey got George Michael out of his car seat. It had been raining all night but it had finally stopped, though there were still a few scattered drops falling from the trees and the road was glistening with the light of the streetlights in the water. It was blessedly the last night of her week-long stay and they’d just gone out to dinner and were now back at Michael and Tracey’s apartment.

“Here, I’ll take him,” Michael said, going over to Tracey.

“Thanks,” she said, giving George Michael to him.

Lindsay watched as he took him from her, struck by how much older he looked. It was strange seeing him in this husband-father role given that the last time she’d spent more than a week at a time with him was when they were still teenagers. She thought about Michael’s confession that he and Tracey had been fighting a lot and felt a flash of anger. Didn’t Tracey realize how lucky she was? She would give anything to be married to someone like him. They started walking towards the apartment building.

“So I’ll be driving you to the airport in the morning,” Michael said to her as they climbed up the stairs. “We should probably leave by six to make sure we get there on time.”

“Ugh. Okay,” Lindsay groaned, not thrilled at the prospect of waking up before dawn.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving already, it feels like you just barely got here,” Tracey said.

“Yeah, it does,” Lindsay agreed, thinking it had felt like an eternity. She suspected that Tracey had picked up on her dislike of her and was being extra nice to her to show her she was wrong. They stepped into the apartment.

“Well, you’ll have to visit again sometime, you’re welcome any time,” Tracey said.

“Thank you, I will.”

“Well, I’d better get this guy to bed, it is well past his bedtime,” Michael said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you,” Lindsay said. “Hey, can I use your phone? I need to call Tobias.”

“Sure. Good night,” he said, carrying George Michael out of the room.

“Well, it was so nice to have you here,” Tracey gushed.

“Thank you, it was nice of you to invite me,” Lindsay said, praying she would leave now. “Good night,” she added to speed up the process.

“Good night,” Tracey said, and followed Michael out of the room.

Lindsay went to the kitchen and picked up the phone and dialed the number. She sat down at the counter while she waited for Tobias to pick up. She hadn’t called him since the first night of the trip, and that had only been a quick call to let him know she’d made it there safely. She felt a little guilty about it. Tobias had been a lot nicer to her lately, seeming to be trying to save their marriage now that she was pregnant, but she just didn’t have it in her to treat him the same way. The only reason she was calling now was that she needed him to pick her up from the airport tomorrow.

“Hello, Fünke residence,” she heard him say in that annoying chirpy way of his.

“Hi, Tobias, it’s Lindsay,” she said with a half-hearted attempt at enthusiasm.

“Lindsay! I was beginning to feel just a teensy bit hurt that you hadn’t called me—”

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been really busy.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. You see, what I was about to say is that I realized that the real reason you weren’t calling me was that you missed me  _too much_. It’s like a case I came across in my studies. By not calling me, you could exist in a state of psychological limbo, if you will, in which you did not have to acknowledge that we were apart. Calling me would force you to accept this sad reality, which was simply too painful.”

Lindsay sat open-mouthed. She’d intended to be nice to him but this was really too much. “That wasn’t it,” she said bluntly. “I just called because I need you to pick me up at the airport tomorrow night. Can you meet me at the baggage claim at eight?”

“Oh,” he said, clearly hurt. “Yes, yes, of course.”

“Thanks. Bye,” she said, and hung up without waiting for a response. She got up and went to her suitcase and took her pajamas out. She shouldn’t have been so terse, she’d probably hurt his feelings. She tried to push the conversation from her mind. She didn’t want to feel guilty right now, she had enough to deal with. Couldn’t he just give her break?

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed. As she passed George Michael’s room she heard Michael reading to him. She quickly stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. She didn’t want Michael to see her and try to talk to her. She stood there for a moment, her hand still on the doorknob. She could still hear Michael reading to George Michael. She leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes, listening to the exaggerated tones of his voice moving up and down, and then she was crying. She didn’t try to stop herself, it felt so good to cry after a week of holding back tears. She sank down to the floor and buried her face in her hands, her whole body shaking with sobs, though she was careful not to make any noise so Michael wouldn’t hear.

He was just so  _happy_. Sure, he was stressed with school and taking care of George Michael and he occasionally argued with his wife, but it was  _nothing_ compared to her life. She felt like all the bad decisions she’d made in the last four and a half years were closing in on her and she didn’t see any way out of it. She hated herself, she hated her life, and she hated Michael, for abandoning her and then acting like he hadn’t done anything wrong. He should have been there for her, he’d always been there to keep her from making too much of a mess of things.

She shouldn’t have come here, she didn’t know what she’d expected. It was never going to be like before. Too much had changed, he didn’t care about her like he used to. He had his wife and his son now and she was just on the periphery, someone to feel guilty about falling out of touch with every now and then. It was so unfair, she didn’t deserve this. Couldn’t he see what he was doing to her? Yes, coming here was a mistake, it wasn’t worth it, not even close.


	44. Part 2, Chapter 21

**December, 1992**

[“So](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2TYH_qTGv8) how does it feel to be twenty-four?” Tracey asked when the door closed behind their babysitter, speaking quietly so she wouldn’t wake up George Michael. She and Michael had just gotten back from a date night, having gone out to dinner and a movie to celebrate Michael’s birthday. They were renting a small house in Los Angeles now, which they’d moved into after graduating six months earlier. Now Michael was working for his father at the Bluth Company and Tracey was working as an accountant and getting the experience she needed to become a tax consultant.

“Good,” he said. “Thank you, that was a really fun birthday.”

“Oh, it’s not over yet,” she said playfully.

“Really,” he said, hoping she meant what he thought she did.

“Yeah, I’ve got one more surprise for you. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed as she went off to the bedroom. He watched her leave, eager to see what the surprise was, then went to the kitchen and sat down at the table.

As he was waiting a picture on the fridge of Lindsay with her husband and daughter caught his eye, reminding him that she still hadn’t called him. He checked the time on the new watch Tracey had given him. 10:30. He did the math to the time in Boston. It was 1:30 am there, so she probably wasn’t planning on calling him tonight. He’d always been the one to call Lindsay on their birthday, but this year he’d decided to wait to see if she would call him. Of course, she hadn’t. Ever since Lindsay had gone back to Boston after her visit in February she’d been almost completely absent from his life. He’d called her a few times in the months afterwards, hoping her openness on the first night of her visit had meant their years of silence were finally over, but every time she was just as distant as before and always quickly made some excuse to get off the phone, and he’d eventually given up on trying to talk to her. He’d called her after the birth of her daughter in May, but they hadn’t talked once since then. It was all very frustrating. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. He could tell she was having a rough time and he wanted to help her, and he also just wanted her to be in his life again because he missed how close they’d been when they were kids, but she just wasn’t letting him. He was done trying. If she wanted to talk to him she could call him, but he wasn’t going to continue trying to keep them from drifting apart when she clearly didn’t care one way or the other.

“Hello, handsome,” he heard Tracey say. He looked up and saw her standing in the doorway of the bedroom in a lacy powder blue babydoll. He’d never seen her in lingerie before. He laughed in surprise.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said. “Wow.”

She laughed. “You like it?” she said, smiling playfully, though she looked a little embarrassed. It was very endearing.

 _“Yes,”_  he said emphatically. “Wow, you look amazing.”

She laughed. He stood up and walked over to her and kissed her, wrapping his arm around her back. He felt her exhale and go slack like she always did when he kissed her. They stood in the living room and kissed for a while, Michael enjoying the familiar scent of her perfume and how soft her body felt under the silky blue fabric.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said, pulling him into the bedroom. He laughed and went with her, kissing her all the way. He closed the door behind them and they collapsed onto the bed next to each other. She laughed and smiled at him. She really did look pretty with her face flushed pink and her bright red curls spilling over her pale shoulders. He pulled her close to him and kissed her again.


	45. Part 2, Chapter 22

**August, 1996**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aq9CcLR7UKk) turned the car onto his street, relieved to be almost home. He’d had a rough day at work. Today had been one of his father’s ‘Black Fridays,’ the name he’d given to the surprise mass firings he did every year or two to keep his employees on their toes. Usually George Sr. did the firing himself, but this time he’d made Michael do it. It had been hard to spend all day telling his coworkers they were out of a job for no reason at all, especially since he was significantly younger than all of them, as well as the boss’s son, which had been the subject of some pointed comments made by some of the angrier ones. It also made him a little nervous about his own job security. He didn’t think his father would fire him, but he had certainly done worse things in the past.

He pulled into the driveway. Tracey’s car was there. Her commute was shorter than his so she usually got home first and picked up George Michael from daycare. He got out of the car and went into the house. Tracey was sitting at the table with George Michael, who was coloring. Michael felt a flicker of annoyance when he saw the bottle of beer next to her. When they were in college he’d thought her heavy drinking was kind of fun, but now it was starting to seem like a problem, especially when it was around George Michael. Michael was worried she was setting a bad example for him.

“Hi,” Tracey said, looking up as he came in. “Happy Friday.”

“Thanks, you too,” Michael said, taking off his shoes. He walked over to them and sat down at the table. “What are you working on there?” he asked George Michael.

“I’m drawing penguins,” he said.

“He’s been learning about penguins in school,” Tracey explained, smiling affectionately at George Michael.

“Really,” Michael said. “What did you learn about penguins?”

“Emperor penguins are really big. They’re as big as me.”

“Oh yeah, I can see that in your picture,” Michael said, looking at the picture, which was of George Michael with some penguins that were the same size as him. He would have to add this to the drawer of his artwork he had at work.

“Hey, Michael, can you help me with dinner?” Tracey asked.

“Sure,” Michael said. They got up and went to the kitchen.

“I was thinking just spaghetti tonight?” she said.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, you do the noodles, I’ll do the sauce.”

“Okay,” Michael said, getting a pot out of the cabinet and filling it with water. “How was work?”

“Good. I got a new client today. She reminds me of your mother.”

“Oh god.”

She laughed. “Yeah, but she scheduled ten sessions with me so I’m not complaining.”

“That’s great. Good job.”

“Thanks. What about you, how was your day?”

He laughed dryly. “Awful. It was another Black Friday. He made me fire twelve people.”

“Oh,” she gasped. “That’s terrible! Why did he make  _you_  do it?”

“I don’t know, I think he thinks it will make me tougher or something. It really should be him since he actually enjoys firing people.”

“You need to quit,” she said seriously.

Michael sighed. “No, we’ve talked about this…”

“You can’t let him treat you like this.”

“I know, but it will all be worth it when he retires and makes me CEO.”

“ _If_  he makes you CEO,” she muttered.

“He will, he’s been hinting at it for years,” he said, annoyed.

“He’s just trying to motivate you, he’s not actually planning on it. You said yourself that he shoots down all your ideas.”

“That’s just because he thinks it will make me work harder.”

“That’s my point, you shouldn’t be working at a place where your boss plays all these mind games with you. I went through this with my mom. I know it’s hard to break away, but you’ll be so much happier when you do.”

“I’m fine, I grew up with him, I know how to handle it,” he insisted, wishing he’d just said his day was fine and left it at that. “Anyway, what else would I do? I doubt I could find a job that pays as well as this one.”

“We’re doing fine, it would be worth it.”

“I’m not quitting, okay? We need to save for George Michael’s college education, I can’t just go switching jobs because of a little conflict with my dad.”

“Yeah, because you were really thinking of George Michael’s college education when you bought that car,” she muttered.

“We needed another car so we could stop taking turns taking the bus to work every day!”

“You could have discussed it with me!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said, stung. His latest birthday present of a new car for her had not gone over well.

She sighed exasperatedly. “I know, but you don’t give someone a car as a surprise, we need to discuss things like that.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, in the future I’ll make sure to do that,” he said tersely.

“Thank you,” she said somewhat sarcastically, and they continued cooking in silence.

Michael glared at the noodles swirling around in the boiling water. The last thing he’d wanted tonight was another argument with his wife. Her criticism of his spending habits was a particularly sore spot for him as he’d always considered himself to be good with money, but Tracey was frugal to a fault. As for quitting his job, he couldn’t just go to another company. Ever since he was a kid he’d dreamed of one day taking over the family business from his father and continuing his legacy, but he would be even better. He would run it honestly, without all the shady deals he suspected his father was hiding from him and without using large sums of company money for the family’s personal expenses. He did really hate working for him, but it would all be worth it when he was CEO. Tracey didn’t understand. He knew she was trying to do what she thought was best for him, but it was a little annoying, especially considering how defensive she always got whenever he tried to give her advice.

He’d been feeling a little resentful toward Tracey ever since she’d recently told him after years of stalling that she didn’t want another baby, end of discussion. He knew it was as much her decision as his, but he wished she’d been more upfront about it instead of making excuses for the last four years about why they had to wait. And it was a little hard to accept that one child was all he was ever going to have. He’d always pictured himself having a big family, at least three or four kids, and it made him sad that George Michael would grow up without siblings. He understood that Tracey didn’t want to put her career on hold to raise another baby or go through pregnancy and labor again, but he wished she would take his feelings into account too instead of just steamrolling over him like usual.


	46. Part 2, Chapter 23

**September, 1996**

[“You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQOBUrRaPU0) know, Kyle said he rode on the Jaguar and that it was really scary, but I didn’t think it was that scary,” George Michael said to Michael as they walked to the house from the car, referring the roller coaster they’d just ridden on.

“Is that right?” Michael said as they stepped inside. Kyle was a boy in George Michael’s class who had been picking on him. “You should tell Kyle that.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

Michael had quit his job that day in an impulsive act of defiance after his father had criticized him one too many times. To celebrate he’d picked up George Michael from school and taken him to Knott’s Berry Farm instead of daycare. He’d left a message on Tracey’s work phone to tell her where they were but he hadn’t explained why he’d left work early, wanting to tell her in person. He had more than a few doubts about his hasty decision, but he was trying not to let them spoil the high he was on from finally standing up to his father.

Tracey came out of the bedroom.

“Mommy, we went to Knott’s Berry Farm!” George Michael said excitedly.

“Knott’s Berry Farm?” she said, mirroring his excitement.

“Yeah, and we went on the Jaguar and it was so fast, and then we went to Burger King for dinner.”

“Wow, that sounds like a good day!”

“Yeah, it was!”

Tracey laughed and looked questioningly at Michael.

“Hey, George Michael, can you go play in your room for a little bit while I talk to your mom?” Michael asked.

“Okay,” George Michael said, and went to his room.

“What’s going on? I got your message,” Tracey said when he was gone.

“I quit,” Michael said, grinning.

“You…wait, you quit your job?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god, really?” she said excitedly.

“Yeah, you were right, I’ll be better off doing something else.”

She laughed in disbelief. “Wow, that’s amazing!” She hesitated, then hugged him. “This is the right decision, I know it is,” she said.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, hugging her back. He wasn’t thrilled to be admitting she’d been right, but it was nice to have her so happy for him. She pulled away and smiled at him.

“So you just quit, just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Okay, I want to hear all about this,” she said, sitting on the couch. He sat down with her, happy to have an audience.

“Okay, well, you know that business model I’ve been working on.”

“Yes.”

“Well, he shot it down like usual, and I was walking out of his office, and then I turned around and said, ‘I quit.’”

She laughed giddily. “What did he say?”

“He was really surprised. I don’t think he meant to push me into quitting. He tried to convince me not to but I just walked out of there.”

“And then you took George Michael to Knott’s Berry Farm?”

“Yeah. Well, I had the rest of the day free and I haven’t been able to spend much time with him lately since I’ve been working so hard, so I figured I might as well.”

“Well, you deserve a celebration,” she said, snuggling up to him. He wrapped his arm around her. “So what are you going to do now?” she asked. “Do you think you’ll go to another real estate company?”

“Uh, actually I’ve been thinking I might become a lawyer instead,” he said cautiously.

“A lawyer?”

“Yeah, a maritime lawyer.” The idea had hit him on his way to George Michael’s school. He may not be able to realize his childhood dream of being CEO of the Bluth Company anymore, but he could still realize his other one of being a maritime lawyer that he’d had ever since he’d played one in a school play,  _The Trial of Captain Hook_.

“What’s a maritime lawyer?”

“Uh, you know, like a lawyer of the sea.”

“Hm. You’d have to go to law school for that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, but I was thinking I’d go somewhere with in-state tuition, and we have some money in savings and your income from your job,” he said hopefully. He’d gotten so excited about the idea throughout the day and he didn’t want to let it go.

“Yeah,” she said skeptically. “But why wouldn’t you just get another job in housing? You already have experience there.”

“I know, but…I don’t want to get another job just like my old one but with less money and a smaller chance of being promoted. It’s not like I’m really interested in housing, I only did it because it was my family’s company.”

Tracey hesitated. “Well, I guess we could handle it, and you’d pay back all the student loans eventually once you got a job.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he said quickly.

“Is that really what you want to do?”

“Yes, I really do.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Thank you,” Michael said, relieved.

“Yeah, it’s a good idea actually. You can make a lot of money as a lawyer, and if you’d be happier doing it, even better.”

“Exactly,” he said, reassured by her words.

“So I guess you should start applying to law schools. Oh, and you’ll have to take the LSAT, right?”

“Oh yeah, I’d better start studying right away.”

“Take a week off first,” she said, smiling at him. “You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks,” he said, squeezing her more tightly.


	47. Part 2, Chapter 24

**June, 1998**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XqpXmhM1Fc) stepped quietly into the dark bedroom, grateful to finally be going to sleep. He’d stayed up late preparing for a final the next day. He carefully got into bed, trying not to wake Tracey, but she was a light sleeper.

“Mm,” she murmured, turning her head to look at him. “What time is it?” she asked sleepily.

“3:30.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he whispered. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she said, and turned away again.

Michael rolled over as well and closed his eyes, though he doubted he would be able to fall asleep anytime soon with his worries about the test tomorrow. He didn’t feel as prepared as he’d like to be, but he’d decided at this point a few hours of sleep was more important than studying.

He was finishing up his first year of law school and feeling stretched to the breaking point. He was staying up almost every night and for the first time in his life he was getting C’s on a regular basis. His classmates told him that was normal in law school, but it still freaked him out, and it was frustrating that all the hard work he was putting in still wasn’t enough. He hadn’t admitted it to anyone, but he missed his old job. His father may have treated him horribly, but at least he’d felt like he was good at it, and he’d gotten a full night’s sleep every night and still had the evenings and weekends free to spend with his family. He was so busy with homework he barely had any time to spend with George Michael or Tracey anymore. And on top of all that they were taking out twenty thousand dollars a year in loans. He kept reminding himself that he’d get a job when he was done and pay it all back, but he still felt pathetic depending on his wife’s income and draining their savings, savings that should be going to his son’s college fund. And he was only one year in. He felt totally lost. He couldn’t quit, not after he’d convinced Tracey to go along with it, not to mention all the time and money they’d put in. But he couldn’t do this for another three years either. He should have never gotten himself into this mess, he should have found another job in housing like Tracey had suggested, or just stayed at the Bluth Company. Now he was in a constant state of anxiety and he didn’t know how to get out of it.

 

* * *

 

“So how does it feel to be done with your master’s degree?” Michael asked Buster. The whole family except Lindsay and her husband and daughter were gathered at his parents’ penthouse to celebrate George Michael’s eighth birthday.

“Oh, it is a weight off my back,” Buster said emphatically. “I can’t even describe how good it feels.”

“That’s great,” Michael said, a little enviously. “So what are you going to do now?”

“Well, I’m thinking I’ll get a degree in Scandinavian folklore next, and after that maybe cartography.”

“Oh,” Michael said, surprised. “I thought you were going to get a job, you know, maybe move out of Mom and Dad’s place?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that,” Buster said. He leaned in conspiratorially. “Mom needs me here,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t think she could function without me.”

Michael raised his eyebrows, thinking it was the other way around. He’d been uncertain about Buster’s job prospects with a degree in eighteenth-century agrarian business, but he’d still hoped he might finally leave their parents’ apartment. He’d always expected his younger brother to have difficulties leaving home, but it was still sad to see him so dependent on their mother at twenty-five years old.

“Hi, Buster,” Tracey said, coming over to join them. “It was so nice of you to come, I’m sure George Michael appreciates it.”

“Oh, of course! I love parties! Love ‘em!” Buster said, and blew his party horn. Tracey laughed nervously. She still found Buster a little unsettling, though she always treated him politely. “Ooh, a magic trick,” Buster said, seeing Gob performing card tricks for George Michael. He hurried over to them, leaving Michael and Tracey by themselves.

“How are you doing?” Michael asked Tracey under his breath. He still felt a little embarrassed whenever Tracey was around his family.

“Good,” she said. “I was just talking to your mother. Turns out the new staff at the country club is not up to snuff.”

“Ugh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” she laughed. “I’m just glad she seems to like me.”

“Yeah, me too,” Michael agreed. His mother’s uncharacteristic fondness for Tracey was still something of a mystery to him, but a very welcome one. It was certainly preferable to his father’s behavior. Ever since Michael had left the Bluth Company almost two years ago George Sr. had complained constantly that Tracey was trying to drive a wedge between them, often when Tracey was in earshot.

“It looks like George Michael’s having fun,” Tracey said, gesturing towards their son, who was watching Gob’s card tricks with rapt attention.

Michael groaned. “I wish Gob would stop doing those magic tricks for him, the last thing I want is for my son to become a magician.”

Tracey laughed. “Lighten up, it’s sweet that he looks up to his uncle.”

“I thought you didn’t like Gob.”

“Well, he did set me on fire at my wedding, but it’s nice that George Michael likes him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Michael said. He didn’t like George Michael’s admiration for his older brother, or that he was so much more interested in Gob’s magic tricks than hearing about maritime law.

Lucille came over to them. “Hello,” she said sweetly. “Sorry to interrupt, but can you come help me in the kitchen, Tracey?”

“Sure,” she replied.

“Thank you,” Lucille said, and quickly walked to the kitchen, pulling Tracey along with her by the arm. “Oh, just Tracey,” she said when Michael tried to follow them.

“Why?” he said, confused, and wondering what she needed help with in the kitchen, as she always relegated all cooking and cleaning duties to her housekeeper, Luce.

“Because I only need one person. You should go talk to your father, you haven’t talked to him yet.”

“Wha—” Michael started to say, but she was already whisking Tracey off to the kitchen.

“Michael!” George Sr. said genially, appearing out of nowhere. Michael jumped. “Come have a drink with me on the balcony, I’ve been meaning to catch up with you.”

“Uh, okay,” Michael said as George Sr. guided him out onto the balcony, alarmed by his sudden appearance and forced friendliness. Things had been very tense between them since he’d quit his job. They stepped out onto the balcony, where there was a bottle of scotch and two glasses waiting for them. George Sr. poured liberally and gave the fuller glass to Michael. Michael took it but didn’t drink.

“Sit down, have a drink,” George Sr. said, sitting down on one of the balcony chairs. Michael sat down on the one next to him.

“What’s going on, Dad?”

“What’s going on? I just want to talk you, you know, catch up.”

“Okay…” he said suspiciously. George Sr. took a sip of his drink. Michael left his untouched, half afraid it was laced with some kind of drug. Everything about this screamed trap, but he didn’t know what it was for.

“So how are you doing?” George Sr. said. “How’s law school going?”

“Fine,” he lied.

“You’re not struggling at all? Feeling in over your head?”

“No…”

“What about tuition, you’re not having any trouble paying it?”

“No, we’re doing fine,” he said, starting to see where this was going.

“Good, good,” George Sr. said, nodding and looking out over the railing at the night sky. Michael cursed himself. In a moment of weakness he’d told his mother about his struggles in law school. She must have passed it on to his father. “I only ask because we could really use you back at the Bluth Company, with all those bright ideas of yours,” George Sr. continued.

“You hated my ideas. All of them.”

“What? That’s not true, you always had great ideas.”

“I’m not coming back, Dad.”

“Okay, okay, I just thought I’d mention it,” he said, waving a hand nonchalantly. “It is a shame, though. I’m thinking about retiring in a year or two and I would have liked to still have some family in the business, you know, to run it according to the Bluth values.” Michael looked up at him. Was he saying he’d make him CEO? “But I guess we’ll just have to make do,” George Sr. said, getting up from his chair. He patted Michael on the shoulder. “Good luck in law school,” he said, and went back inside.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psLhTyj1sAY) sat on the living room couch watching TV, though he wasn’t paying much attention. Seconds after his father had left him on the balcony he’d followed him and told him he’d take his old job back. It had been an impulsive decision, but the more he thought about it the surer he was that it was the right one. He could already feel some of the stress of the last year starting to lift knowing that soon everything would be returning to normal. Now he just needed to tell Tracey. He wasn’t looking forward to it—she could get vicious when she was angry, and this was certainly cause for anger. He hadn’t told her at the party or on the way home, not wanting to start a fight in front of George Michael on his birthday, but now they were home and as soon as Tracey finished reading George Michael his bedtime story he was going to tell her.

The door to George Michael’s room opened and Tracey came into the living room.

“Well, another birthday done,” she said, sitting next to him on the couch. “I think it was a success.”

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed, turning off the TV.

“He  _loves_  the lightsaber toy. Good thinking on that one.”

Michael laughed. “Thanks,” he said. Tracey winced and touched her stomach. “Stomach pain again?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“No, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Alright,” he said. He had to tell her now, but how should he start?

“I think I’m going to go to bed early, I’m feeling kind of worn out from the party,” Tracey said, getting up.

“Oh, okay,” Michael said, caught off guard. Maybe he should wait until morning? No, that would make it even worse. “Wait,” he said as she put her hand on the doorknob.

“What?”

“I, uh, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Um, okay,” she laughed confusedly. She returned to the couch and sat back down.

“So, I was talking to my dad at the party,” Michael said anxiously. “And he offered me old my job back. I told him I’d take it.”

“What?” she said. “You’re not serious.”

“I know how you feel about me working there, but—”

“You’re in law school! You’re going to be a maritime lawyer!”

“I know, I—I don’t think I’ll go back to school in the fall, it’s a waste of money when I already have a job.”

“You didn’t even discuss this with me, you just decided to go ahead and do it?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, it’s the right decision—”

“You call him right now and tell him you changed your mind!”

“Keep your voice down, George Michael will hear.”

“I don’t care, just call him!” she said furiously, though she did lower her voice.

“We can’t just keep pouring money into this—”

“We’ve already  _spent_  so much money on this! And all the time you’ve put in—you can’t let it all be for nothing!”

“I’m sorry, I should have never done this, but it will be even worse if we do another three years.”

“Why? You don’t want to put the work in, it’s too hard for you so you’re quitting?”

“No, that’s not why!” he said, stung. “We need to save for George Michael’s education, and pay off the student loans we already have. We can’t be adding more when I already have a job. And my dad said he’s going to retire soon and make me CEO.”

“Oh my god,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “He said that? He actually said, ‘I’m going to make you CEO?’”

“Well, he hinted at it,” he said. She laughed derisively. “I shouldn’t have said ‘hinted,’ it was clear that was what he meant,” he quickly added.

“Don’t you see? He just wants to control you again! If he was actually going to make you CEO he would tell you. He won’t say it so you can’t hold him to anything.”

“I think he’s just trying to make sure I don’t take it for granted so I keep working hard. He’s always said I would run the company someday. And even if he doesn’t, he’s still going to retire soon and I won’t have to work for him anymore, and I’ll have a good, stable job and we’ll save sixty thousand dollars.”

“And twenty thousand completely wasted!” she said furiously. Michael recoiled. He’d gotten so caught up in the argument he’d forgotten that he really had no moral high ground here. Tracey leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. “You told me law school was what you wanted to do,” she groaned. “That’s the only reason I went along with it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it, he wanted so much to undo this whole thing.

She sighed. “Okay, fine, go back to the Bluth Company. I don’t want to hear you complaining about work again, though, this is your choice.”

Michael blinked. He hadn’t realized his complaints had bothered her. It had just been nice to have someone to vent to. “Yeah, I—I won’t,” he stammered.

“Okay. I’m going to bed now,” she said, and got up and left the room.


	48. Part 2, Chapter 25

**October, 1998**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBH97ma9YiI) stepped into the living room and saw Tracey sitting on the couch reading a magazine, an empty bottle of beer on the side table next to her. George Michael was in the backyard playing with the neighbors’ kids.

“Hey, you should probably get started on dinner soon, it’s almost seven,” Michael said.

“Damn, is it my turn tonight?”

“Yeah, it’s Thursday.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I’m really tired tonight. Can we just order a pizza?”

“Yeah, sure,” Michael said, feeling a little annoyed—he always made dinner when it was his turn—but he didn’t want to start a fight, so he decided to let it go. Things had been very tense between them ever since he’d dropped out of law school. He sat down on the couch. Tracey got up and went to the fridge and got herself another beer.

“Another one?” Michael said.

“Uh, yeah? What’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” Michael said as she returned to the living room and sat back down on the couch. But this was getting ridiculous, he had to bring it up sometime. “Actually, could you stop drinking so much around George Michael?” he said.

“What?”

“It’s just, we need to model responsible drinking for him. I’m worried you’re setting a bad example.”

“I’m not being irresponsible, I’m just sitting in the house. It’s not like I’m driving or anything.”

“I know, but it’s every night, it’s unhealthy.”

“It’s not every night.”

“Pretty close!”

She gave him a dangerous look. “Okay, you have got to calm down about all this parenting stuff, you take it way too seriously.”

“It’s something that should be taken seriously.”

“And you think I’m not?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just this one thing—”

“It’s everything! Everything I do is wrong! Ever since he was born all you’ve done is criticize me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re the one who’s suffocating him with all your ridiculous rules and standards!”

“Suffocating?” Michael repeated incredulously.

“Yes! Like when you wouldn’t buy him a new lightsaber when he lost his.”

“He needs to learn not to lose things.”

“He’s eight years old! You’re just like your dad with all his mind games!”

“Jesus Christ, I ask you to drink a little less around our son and you turn it into a big fight.”

“ _I_ did?”

“Yes, you did! Every time I give you any kind of suggestion you just fly off the handle!”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!”

Michael heard the fridge in the kitchen open. He looked towards the kitchen and saw a George Michael-sized shadow on the wall. How long had he been there? Tracey fell silent, too. Michael got up and went to the kitchen.

“George Michael!” he said with forced cheerfulness. “Did you have fun with the Olsons?”

“Yeah,” George Michael said gloomily, his eyes downcast, breaking Michael’s heart. This was far from the first time he’d overheard them fighting.

“Hey, we’re going to order pizza tonight,” he said brightly. “What kind do you want?”

“Uh, I’m fine with anything.”

“No, really, what do you want?” he pressed. George Michael had a habit of being overly accommodating.

“I don’t know. Hawaiian, I guess?”

“Hawaiian it is! I’ll go order it.”

He went to the phone and took the phonebook out of the drawer below it. He glanced into the living room and saw Tracey looking at them. She quickly turned away, her expression stony, and got up and went to the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, George Michael, tell your dad about your math test,” Tracey said as she helped George Michael load the dishwasher and Michael put away the leftovers from dinner.

“Oh yeah, I got an A minus on my test,” George Michael said proudly.

“Really,” Michael said, smiling at him over his shoulder as he spooned the leftover chili into tupperware. “Good job.”

“Thanks! Can we go get ice cream now?”

“Well, ice cream is for A’s and A pluses, but if you study a little harder you might get it next time.”

“I think we can get him ice cream for A minuses, too,” Tracey said, sounding annoyed.

“Well, the rule is A’s and A pluses…”

“For god’s sake,” she snapped. “ _I’ll_  get you ice cream,” she said to George Michael.

“Tracey—”

“An A minus is a good grade! Come on, let’s go right now,” she said, setting the plate she was holding down on the counter.

“It’s okay, I don’t need ice cream,” George Michael said quickly.

“No, you’ve earned it! Come on, let’s go,” she said, heading towards the living room. George Michael looked uncertainly at Michael.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he sighed, trying to hide how angry he was with Tracey. George Michael nervously turned and followed her to the front door.

 

* * *

 

Michael sat in bed looking over the materials for the presentation to the Bluth Company investors he had to give in two days, but he was having trouble focusing through his anger. Tracey and George Michael were still out getting ice cream. For crying out loud, he was just trying to teach him to work hard in school and she had to go and undercut his efforts and make him look like the bad guy. She was probably just still angry over their latest fight about her letting George Michael go to the park by himself and she was trying to get back at him.

He heard the front door open and Tracey’s and George Michael’s voices as they came into the house. A minute later Tracey came into the bedroom.

“Hey,” Michael said, getting up from the bed. “What was all that about earlier?”

“I took our son to get ice cream, what’s the problem?” she sighed as she hung her jacket up in the closet.

“You undermined my parenting.”

“Oh, is that what that was?” she said poisonously.

“Yes, I’m trying to teach him to work hard in school!”

“He is working hard, he got an A minus!”

“I know, but he gets A minuses all the time, he can do better. If we get him ice cream after every test it’s not a reward anymore.”

“You’re putting too much pressure on him. He’s in third grade, his grades don’t matter.”

“I’m trying to prepare him for when they do matter.”

“Then help him with his homework, don’t make him feel bad about himself.”

“I do help him with his homework! And I’m not ‘making him feel bad about himself,’ I’m just trying to help him reach his full potential, and if you’ve got a problem with that you should talk to me about it instead of fighting with me right in front of him.”

“I was trying to protect him from you!”

“Protect him?”

“Yes! He was excited to tell you about his grade and all you did was make him feel like it wasn’t good enough!”

“I’m just trying to help him do well in school!” he said, hurt and angry that she thought his son needed to be protected from him. “And you know what, while we’re on the subject of parenting, how about you stop getting drunk every night, or sending him to the park by himself—”

“Oh my god, it was five minutes away!”

“He could have been hit by a car! Or kidnapped! It’s a wonder he’s made it to eight years old—”

Tracey slapped him. Michael looked at her, stunned. He touched his face where she’d hit him. She hesitated for a moment, looking a little stunned herself, then stormed out of the room.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XpXaWUaBe7E) lay in the darkness, watching Tracey silently enter the room and get in bed next to him. She quickly turned so that she was lying with her back to him. He could almost feel the iciness emanating from her. He looked up at the ceiling.

He was still reeling from the fight a few hours ago. They’d had a lot of arguments, especially in the last few months, but never  _this_  bad. He pictured her slapping him again. Was that normal for married couples? He didn’t think so. He shouldn’t have said those things, no wonder she’d been upset. Of course she’d said some pretty nasty things too. How had things gotten so bad?

He remembered a statistic he’d seen a couple of years ago about how marriages that were a result of unplanned pregnancies were more likely to end in divorce. At the time he’d thought it didn’t apply to them. They probably would have gotten married anyway, just a few years later. But god, things had been so bad lately. She wouldn’t leave him, would she? This was just a rough patch, it would get better. The thought of getting divorced made him feel sick. She could be infuriating at times, but it was only because she’d had such a messed up childhood. He still loved her just as much as he had the day he’d married her. More, actually, now that he knew her better. He’d gotten so used to her over the last nine years. He couldn’t imagine living apart, only seeing each other when they were shuffling George Michael between houses, after everything they’d been through together. And it would be so embarrassing, for everyone to think he’d failed as a husband. He had to stop acting like this, what was the matter with him?

“Tracey?” he said tentatively. There was a pause.

“Yeah?” she said, her back still to him.

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. You’re right, I’ve been too critical. Of both of you.”

He waited desperately for her to respond. She didn’t say anything for a moment, but then she sighed and rolled over to face him.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. She gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry I slapped you. That was a little crazy.”

He laughed weakly. “It’s okay.”

She hesitated. “That was a really horrible thing to say earlier, that he’s lucky to have survived to eight years old.”

Michael closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I was just upset.”

“I know, but you say things like that all the time, you’re always acting like I’m putting him in danger or something. I mean, I’m trying my best—” Her voice broke and she stopped talking.

“I know,” Michael said quickly, overcome with guilt. God, he’d made her cry. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I say things like that. I just—I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

She sniffed. “I’m sorry, too. I overreacted earlier, I shouldn’t have argued with you in front of him like that. Can we just put the whole thing behind us and pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he laughed weakly, nodding emphatically.

“Okay,” she said with a small smile. He smiled back, then impulsively leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. She raised her eyebrows slightly and laughed. She hesitated, then kissed him again, longer and more tenderly this time. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, suddenly wanting more than anything to go back to how things had been when they’d first gotten married, before all this fighting and built-up resentment. He rolled over on top of her.

“Mm,” she laughed in surprise. “Oh, you just wanna get laid.”

He laughed. “That might be part of it,” he murmured between kisses.

“Ugh, why do you have to be so damn handsome?” she groaned.

“That’s right, beautiful,” he laughed. “I love you. Let’s not fight anymore, okay?”

She smiled. “I don’t know if that’s realistic.”

“I know. But we can try.”

“Okay.”


	49. Part 2, Chapter 26

**December, 1998**

[“Oh](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgZz4L1UmxE) no, I’m completely stuffed,” Lindsay said to a waiter offering her a plate of cheese. She was at one of her and Tobias’s celebrated wine and cheese fundraisers. She turned back to Teresa, the woman she’d been talking to. “Um, I forget their name, but, I know they’re hungry. And I think some are thirsty.”

“So horrible,” Teresa said, shaking her head. “It’s so good that you’re doing this fundraiser.”

“Thank you, that means so much to me,” Lindsay said, happy to have her approval. Teresa, whom she’d met at registration for Maeby’s new progressive school, was part of the crowd of important, fashionable Bostonians Lindsay was working to become a part of. Teresa’s husband came over to them.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but we’d better head out,” he said. Teresa looked at her watch.

“Oh, you’re right. Sorry, Lindsay, we probably shouldn’t keep the babysitter waiting any longer.”

“No problem. Thank you so much for coming,” she said, wondering if she should have gotten a babysitter for Maeby, who was the same age as their son, instead of leaving her at home by herself. But she was a very independent eight-year-old.

“Of course, I’m glad we could help. Good luck with the fundraising!”

“Thank you! Good night!”

“Good night.”

Lindsay watched them leave. Teresa’s husband was very attractive. How did she get a guy like him? She wasn’t anything special. She scanned the crowd for her own husband and saw him across the room talking enthusiastically to an equally attractive man. She rolled her eyes and went to get another glass of wine.

For a while things had been going better with Tobias—they’d both been taking Teamocil, a supplement they’d been selling that created a sense of camaraderie and, more importantly, had a side effect of decreasing your sex drive. But the other side effects had gotten so bad that they’d had to stop taking it, and now things were worse than ever. He wasn’t even trying to get over being a never-nude anymore, and it had been almost two years since they’d had sex. She didn’t really mind, as she could get off much more easily by herself anyway, but it was hurtful that he didn’t want to have sex with her. It was pretty clear now that it wasn’t just because he was afraid to be undressed—he also just wasn’t attracted to her. She was almost certain that he was gay, but whenever she tried to bring it up he vehemently denied it.

Most of the time it didn’t bother her that much. She kept herself busy with her fundraisers—she liked feeling like she was making a difference and meeting important people in the process, and it was nice to be able to tell them her husband was an MIT-trained psychologist. But a week ago she’d turned thirty and she was starting to panic that the rest of her life was going to be like this. She’d been dreading turning thirty for years, but it had always felt so far away. She didn’t feel thirty, she didn’t feel all that different from when she was a teenager. She couldn’t stop thinking that she’d wasted her twenties. She’d married Tobias shortly after she turned twenty-one, and since then she’d just been floating through life and trying not to think too much about how nothing had turned out like she’d expected it to.

“Excuse me, are you Lindsay Fünke?”

Lindsay turned and saw a tall, well-dressed man with dark hair.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I’m Paul Matthews,” he said, shaking her hand. “I was told you were the one that organized this fundraiser?”

“Yes, that’s right,” she said proudly.

“You seem awfully young to be running something like this. What are you, in your twenties?”

“Twenty-eight,” she lied, feeling a little thrill. Was he flirting with her? “Yes, I’ve been involved in things like this since college, and a few years ago I started organizing my own fundraisers.”

“Wow, beautiful and talented.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Thank you,” she laughed shyly, running her hand through her hair. She looked at him more closely. He was a good deal older than her, probably late forties, but he was still quite handsome.

“I work at Eastern Bank, and we’ve been looking to get involved in a charitable cause like this,” he said.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! There are so few socially conscious people in banking.”

He laughed sheepishly. “I don’t know if I’m among them. To be honest we’re just looking for a way to improve our public image. We’ve had some bad press recently.”

“Oh!” Lindsay laughed. “Well, either way, we’d love your help.”

“Great. I’m not very familiar with the cause, I just heard about this fundraiser from a friend and decided to stop by. Can you tell me a little about it?”

“Sure, we’re, uh, we’re raising money to stop the hunger in…uh… Damn, I can’t remember the name. Some impoverished country, you know, that kind of thing.” She cursed herself. Why hadn’t she done more research before she came here? But he didn’t seem to be put off.

“Sounds very intriguing,” he said. “I’d love to get our bank involved.”

“Great! We could always use more donations.”

“I was thinking more of an ongoing partnership, actually.”

“Oh, sure. I mean, I’m not really affiliated with the organization, I just raise the money and send it to them.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure we can,” she said, not sure what he had in mind, but she wanted to see this guy again.

“Maybe we can meet for coffee sometime to discuss the details?”

“Yes, perfect.” 

“Perfect. Well, here’s my business card. Can I get your number?”

“Sure,” she said, getting a pen and a scrap of paper out of her purse and writing down her cell phone number. She didn’t want him to call the home phone and risk Tobias answering and embarrassing her.

“Thank you. I’ll be in touch,” he said as she handed him the paper.

“Great, see you soon,” she said eagerly.


	50. Part 2, Chapter 27

**January, 1999**

[“So](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jhWM_b82Xk) then the one-armed guy—J. Walter Weatherman was his name—he would come over to us and we’d all be screaming and he would be spewing fake blood all over the place and he’d say, ‘And that’s why…’ and it would be some stupid lesson like not leaving the door open when the air conditioning was on or fighting with my brothers,” Lindsay said. She and Paul were sitting on the couch in his living room, having come there for drinks after going to an art show together. They’d been going on little outings like this for about a month now, having completely forgotten about the partnership between her fundraising and his bank.

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “And I thought my dad was strict.”

“Yeah, all the guys I dated were terrified of him. I think he would threaten them when I wasn’t around to keep them from trying anything.”

He laughed. “I bet you had half the boys in Newport Beach going crazy,” he said, giving her a little thrill. “Let me guess, in high school you were the beautiful, popular prom queen type.”

“Well, I wasn’t prom queen, but I did win best hair senior year.”

“So did I!”

“No way!” she said, laughing loudly. She’d drunk quite a bit and was feeling a little tipsy. “Yeah, high school was fun,” she mused, absentmindedly feeling the thick, soft fabric of her dress over her thigh, a long, sleek black dress with a zipper down the front. “I got married pretty soon after that.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Wow. Why so young?”

“I dunno,” she sighed. “I think I was tryna prove something to my parents. They didn’t like him. It was a stupid decision.” She blushed at the look of surprise on his face. “Sorry, I guess that was a little personal…” she said, laughing shyly.

“No, it’s okay.”

“It’s just, I feel like I can talk to you, you know?” she said, her voice wavering slightly. He smiled warmly.

“Good. I’m glad.”

She smiled back, peering at him over the top of her glass as she took another drink. She still hadn’t told Tobias about Paul, always making up some excuse whenever she went out with him. At first she’d told herself it was okay because she wouldn’t let it go anywhere. She just liked spending time with this rich, handsome man who was clearly interested in her. But she was starting to hope it would go somewhere. She felt like it was justified. Tobias couldn’t expect her to be celibate for the rest of her life. And she couldn’t help it, she was falling in love with Paul. He made her feel beautiful and smart and interesting, and for the first time in almost a decade she felt excited about something, she wasn’t just going through the motions and trying to block out all her feelings. Would it really be so bad to see how this played out?

“What about you, have you ever been married?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just haven’t met the right woman yet.”

“Maybe you already have and you just don’t know it yet,” she said tentatively. He looked over at her, making her heart jump into her throat. He laughed softly and turned away.

“Yeah, maybe.”

She felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. That was a stupid thing to say. She shouldn’t have drunk so much, now her judgment was all screwed up. A warm shiver went through her as she wondered if that had been his intention, bringing her back to his place for drinks like this. She felt like this should offend her, but instead it just turned her on. It felt so good to have someone trying to seduce her after nine years of desperately trying to get her husband to feel something for her. She was sure that was what he was trying to do. Why else would he be spending so much time with her? She wondered how he would react if she kissed him right now. She shouldn’t, she should wait for him to make the first move or she would look like a slut, and a pretty heartless one at that for betraying her husband so easily. But the thought of him laying her down on this couch right now and his strong male hands on her body was making her feel dizzy.

Paul looked up at the clock on the wall.

“Oh, it’s already past ten,” he sighed. “I should probably take you home now.”

“Oh no, I can stay a little longer,” she said, her heart sinking. The thought of going home to her cold house with her needy daughter and idiot husband was abhorrent right now.

“Your husband might wonder where you are.”

“It’s okay, I’ll come up with an excuse,” she said quickly, waving a hand as if to brush the issue away. “Besides, we don’t want to let all this vodka go bad.”

“Oh no, vodka doesn’t—”

But before he could finish his sentence she was kissing him. He made a noise of surprise but kissed her back. She caressed his face as she kissed him, hardly believing this was actually happening after all these years. She felt his hand on the back of her head, his fingers in her hair, making her ache for him. She pulled away and started unzipping the front of her dress with shaking hands.

“Wait, what about your husband?” he said breathlessly.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, and kissed him again.


	51. Part 2, Chapter 28

**February, 1999**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wBDDAZkNtk) focused carefully on the road ahead of her as she drove to Paul’s house. After almost nine years of living in Boston she’d gotten pretty adept at navigating its twisty streets, but slushy February mornings like this one still posed a challenge. She’d left her house key at Paul’s earlier that morning and now she was heading there to pick it up.

Her cellphone rang. She took it out of her purse and answered it, trying to keep her eyes on the road.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hello, is this Lindsay Bluth-Fünke?” a woman said on the other end.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I’m the school nurse at Boston Sunshine Academy. Your daughter just threw up and needs to be taken home.”

“Right now?” Lindsay said, cursing silently.

“Um, yes, as soon as possible.”

“Uh…I’m kind of busy right now. Can you just keep her there for a while?”

“Uh, we can keep her for a little while, but we do need someone to pick her up soon. Is there someone else that can?”

Lindsay sighed, wishing she hadn’t answered the phone. Tobias was at work, and she couldn’t tell him why she couldn’t pick Maeby up anyway. “No. Okay, I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Bye.”

She hung up. She considered going to Paul’s first, but it was far away and Maeby’s school was on the way anyway. She’d have to take Maeby with her and leave her in the car. It was too bad, she’d been hoping to stay a little longer as long as she was already going over there.

She and Paul had been carrying on an affair for a little over a month now. She didn’t know why she hadn’t done this sooner. All those years of unnecessary misery. She didn’t feel guilty anymore. She felt like Tobias had married her under false pretenses anyway, not telling her he was a never-nude until after the wedding. He was lucky she hadn’t divorced him after all this time. And besides, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

She arrived at Maeby’s school and parked, trying to avoid the puddles of slush as she got out of the car and paid for parking. She walked up the stairs to the front entrance and went inside. The school was full of plush seating and fountains and there was relaxing eastern music playing in the background. One of Lindsay’s prouder parenting moments had been enrolling her daughter in this progressive school. She went to the front desk.

“Hi, my daughter Maeby is sick, I’m here to pick her up,” she said to the woman there.

“Oh, yes, I’ll go get her.”

Lindsay waited impatiently as she left the office. She came back a moment later with Maeby.

“Here she is. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. If she throws up again she should stay home from school tomorrow.”

“Got it,” Lindsay said.

“Great, I just need you to sign her out,” she said, pushing the sign-out sheet over to Lindsay, who quickly filled it out.

“There,” Lindsay said. “Okay, let’s go, sweetie,” she said to Maeby, and they went back outside. “I need to stop at a friend’s house before we go home, I left my house key there this morning,” she said as they walked down the steps.

“Okay,” Maeby said, putting on her coat.

They got into the car. Lindsay started it and drove towards Paul’s.

“So how was school?” she said distractedly.

“I threw up.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry about that.”

“Can I stay home tomorrow?”

“Uh, I don’t know…” Lindsay said, not thrilled at the possibility of having to take care of her all day. “We’ll see how you’re feeling. Hopefully you’ll be ready to go back tomorrow.”

Twenty minutes later they arrived at Paul’s house. Lindsay parked the car.

“Can you just wait in the car for a little bit while I go get my key?” Lindsay said.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, no, I’ll just be a second.”

“There’s nothing to do out here,” Maeby whined.

“I’ll be right back, just be patient,” Lindsay said, frazzled. She left the car and hurried up the steps and knocked on the door. She looked back at Maeby waiting in the car and smiled. Maeby glared back at her. The door opened.

“Hello, again,” Paul said, smiling at her.

“Hey, baby,” she said, stepping into the house. As soon as she was inside she felt better. She loved his stylish townhouse in Back Bay, the neighborhood she’d been dying to live in since she’d moved to Boston but had so far been unable to afford. She and Tobias were doing fine financially, but finding a three-bedroom home near downtown had been a challenge, and their house wasn’t quite up to the standard she’d grown up with. “Sorry to bother you, it must have fallen out of my purse earlier,” she said.

“No problem, it’s in the kitchen.”

She went to the kitchen and saw it on the counter. “Ah, thanks,” she said, picking it up and putting it in her purse. “Well, I’ll see you Saturday.”

“You don’t have to leave just yet,” he said, coming up to her and hugging her from behind.

“Mm,” she sighed as his hands moved to her breasts, feeling a pounding begin between her legs. Maybe she could leave Maeby in the car for another fifteen minutes… No, she’d probably come inside to see what was taking so long. “Ugh, I’d love to, but my daughter’s waiting for me in the car,” she said.

“Doesn’t she have school?” he said, kissing her neck.

“No, she got sick and I had to pick her up early,” she groaned, really going crazy now.

“Ahh, okay,” he sighed, pulling away. “Guess we’ll have to wait until Saturday.”

“Can’t wait,” she said breathlessly, throwing him a flirtatious smile. She went back to the front door and opened it, cursing her luck that Maeby had to get sick today.

“Hey, kiss me goodbye,” he said, following her out onto the steps and pulling her in for another kiss. She jumped and pulled away.

“My daughter’s right there,” she reminded him.

“Oh, sorry,” he laughed. “Wouldn’t want her to know what mommy’s getting up to.”

Lindsay laughed uncomfortably, trying not to cringe. He’d been talking about her husband and daughter a lot lately, to the point where she was starting to wonder if the fact that she was married was some kind of turn-on for him. She wished he wouldn’t, as it made her feel kind of gross.

“Well, I’d better get going,” she said, laughing again and hurrying down the steps.

“Okay, bye,” he said.

“Bye,” she called back over her shoulder. She got into her car, hoping Maeby hadn’t seen him kiss her.

“Who was that?” Maeby said immediately. Lindsay cursed silently.

“Just a friend,” she said quickly.

“Are you cheating on Daddy?”

“What? No, of course not,” she said, surprised. Maeby was eight years old, how did she even know what cheating meant? Maeby raised her eyebrows. Lindsay sighed.

“I’m sorry you saw that. I still love your dad, it’s just…yeah.” She quickly started the car and headed home, extremely aware of Maeby’s eyes boring into her. “Hey, um, do you think you could do me a favor and not tell Daddy about this?” she asked.

Maeby looked at her incredulously, then turned away and looked out the window. “Yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically.

“Thanks,” Lindsay said guiltily. “Hey, how about we stop for ice cream on the way home?”

“Double scoop?” Maeby said without missing a beat.

“Sure, whatever you want.”


	52. Part 2, Chapter 29

**April, 1999**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QUq72fla3o) hurried down the steps of her and Tobias’s little South Boston house with her suitcase, breathing in the cool spring evening air as she went. She opened the trunk of her car and put her suitcase in, then got into the car and called Paul on her cellphone.

“Hi, Lindsay,” she heard him say.

“I left him.”

“What?”

“I left my husband!” she said excitedly. “Now we can be in a real relationship, we don’t have to sneak around anymore!”

“Wait, Lindsay, what—what do you mean you left your husband?”

“I mean that I told him we’re through, packed a suitcase, and left,” she said, laughing giddily.

“But—why didn’t you tell me you were going to do this?”

“I didn’t know until just now, it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.”

“Don’t you think you should think about this first? I mean, you’ve been married almost ten years, haven’t you?”

“And I was miserable every second of it. I should have done this years ago,” she said, almost laughing aloud at how easy it had been, after all this time.

“What about your daughter?”

“What about her?”

“Won’t she be upset if you split up?”

“She’ll be fine, we can take turns with her,” she said, frustrated that he wasn’t sharing in her excitement. “Look, I know this is the right decision, I already feel happier than I have in years,” she said, only realizing after she’d said it just how true it was.

“Uh—Okay, good, that’s good.”

“So can I stay with you tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Now I can stay the whole night, or even longer, I don’t have to rush home anymore,” she said excitedly.

“Oh yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll be right over.”

“Great.”

She hesitated. “I love you,” she said, her voice wavering. She hadn’t said it yet for fear of scaring him off, but she had to tell him, she loved him now more than ever for saving her from this mess.

“Uh, I, uh, I love you, too,” he stammered.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest, exhaling shakily. It was over, she never had to be embarrassed by Tobias again, or let him make her feel ugly and disgusting, or go through the humiliation of sleeping in a separate bedroom from her husband every goddamn night. She felt like she was hitting the reset button, leaving this whole nightmare decade behind her and going back to how she’d felt in high school, when everyone wanted to be like her and the future looked brighter than the present.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said unsteadily.

“Yeah, see you soon.”

She smiled. “Okay, bye,” she said, and hung up and drove away.

 

* * *

 

[“Ah!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dV7aLhC-gLg) Ah, yes, that’s it!” Lindsay gasped as Paul thrust into her, trying to sound as convincing as she could. She was starting to feel embarrassed by how long this was taking. Paul groaned and she felt him jerk inside her as he came, a pleasurable feeling in itself but still not enough to push her over the edge.

She sighed as he rolled off of her onto the bed, trying to focus on the warm wetness on her thighs and how pleasantly sensitive she felt under the cool, soft sheets, but she couldn’t block out the frustration. Thirty years old and she’d still never climaxed with a partner. She had no problem when she was on her own, what was wrong with her? Until now she’d chalked it up to the fact that her only partners had been inexperienced high school and college boys followed by nine years of Tobias, but Paul was plenty skillful and she still had to fake it every time.

She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of him breathing beside her, slower and slower as he drifted off into a contented daze. The sound gave her some satisfaction. At least he’d enjoyed himself, still derived some pleasure from having her here. She’d been staying with him for two weeks now and having sex with him almost every night in an attempt to keep him interested.

She turned her head to look at him lying next to her in the lamplight with his eyes closed. She rolled over onto her side and turned his face to her and kissed him softly, then pulled away and smiled. The smile he gave her in return didn’t quite reach his eyes, but there had been enough tenderness in his kiss to give her some reassurance. She snuggled up to him and sighed with a warm contentedness as he wrapped his arms around her.

“This is nice, living with you like this,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re still looking for your own place, though, right?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, trying to stifle the pain this caused her. “Yeah, I am.”

“Okay,” he said. They lay in silence for a moment.

“You know, when you talk like that it almost sounds like you don’t want me here,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and joking. He sighed exasperatedly and pulled away from her, making her flinch.

“I’m not ready to live together, I told you that,” he said. “This is just temporary, while you look for your own place.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said, wishing she hadn’t said anything. He looked at her. She noticed hopefully that there was a trace of guilt in his face. But then he sighed and turned away.

“I’d better get some sleep, I have work in the morning,” he said, rolling over and turning off the lamp.

“Okay,” she said quietly.


	53. Part 2, Chapter 30

**May, 1999**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCthmb-m52E) sat in her parked car, watching the cars and people pass by her in the dark street outside as she tried to figure out where to go now.

Paul had just dumped her. She couldn’t say it had been a surprise. She’d been expecting this ever since she’d left Tobias, maybe even before then. She’d just tried not to think about it, hoping against hope that she was wrong. She’d yelled at him a little and called him some nasty things, mostly just to spare what was left of her dignity, and then she’d packed her suitcase and driven away. But after driving aimlessly for a few minutes she’d realized she really had no idea where she was going to stay tonight, so she’d just parked in the closest spot she could find to give herself time to think.

She wondered if she would ever see him again. She realized with a shock that she probably wouldn’t. They had no reason to contact each other again, and the odds of running into each other on the street were almost zero. She didn’t really care. In fact, she was glad of it, she never wanted to see him again. Still, it was strange to think that that last glimpse of him she’d had while storming out the front door fifteen minutes ago was the last time she’d seen the man she’d pinned all her hopes on for the last four months. She thought about what he’d said, that he couldn’t be what she needed and that she should go back to her husband. Asshole. Couldn’t he just admit that he’d lost interest?

She felt like she should cry, but she didn’t have it in her. She felt exhausted. She didn’t want to go to the trouble of finding a hotel and checking in, or explain to some friend she didn’t even like why she needed a place to stay tonight. She just wanted to go home. This had been it, this was her way out and it hadn’t worked. She didn’t want to try anymore, it wasn’t worth feeling like this. She got out her cellphone and dialed the number.

“Hello, Fünke residence,” she heard Tobias say in that chirpy voice of his. Now her eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, it’s me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, Lindsay,” he said coolly. “If you want to schedule time with Maeby you’re going to have to wait. We’ve got a whole week of father-daughter fun planned.”

“No, that’s—I was wondering if—if I could come home,” she said weakly, wiping at the tears that were streaming down her face now.

“Oh,” he said, his tone changing. “Wait, do you mean, for good?”

“Yeah, yeah, if that’s okay,” she stammered.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he said, sounding a little stunned.

“Okay. Thanks,” she said, and hung up.


	54. Part 2, Chapter 31

**June, 1999**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gVxRvNfFLg) looked away from the TV screen as the phone rang. “Tobias, can you get that?” she called.

“Sure thing, my love,” he called back. Lindsay tried not to roll her eyes. Tobias had been much more affectionate since she’d come home a month ago (verbally of course, not physically). She knew she should appreciate it, but instead it just annoyed her. It only reminded her of her disastrous attempt to leave him. She just wanted things to go back to normal as quickly as possible so she could forget it had ever happened.

“Hello, Fünke residence,” she heard Tobias say in the kitchen. “Michael! How  _are_  you? Oh. Yes, I’ll go get her.” He peered into the living room. “It’s your brother, Michael.”

“Yeah, I got that,” she said, getting up and taking the phone from him. She was surprised Michael was calling her. They almost never talked anymore. She didn’t really want to talk to him. She’d gotten over her infatuation with him years ago, but he was always so judgmental and she really didn’t feel up to being judged right now.

“Hi, Michael,” she said tiredly as Tobias left the kitchen.

“Hey, I, uh, I need to talk to you,” he said. He sounded very out of it.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she said, surprised. “Is something wrong?”

“Uh, yeah, actually. Yeah. Tracey has cancer.”

“What?”

“We just found out. I mean, for sure, she did some tests before but they weren’t conclusive.”

“Wait, what do you mean—are you sure?”

“Yeah, she just had a biopsy, it’s stage three ovarian cancer.”

Lindsay’s eyes widened. “Stage three, that’s—that’s bad, isn’t it?” she said, then realized that may not have been the right thing to say.

“Uh, it is advanced, but she’s going to have surgery, and chemo, we’ll do everything. And we’re not actually sure yet if it’s stage three, it just looks like it. We won’t know for sure until she has the surgery.”

“So it’s not—it’s not terminal, then?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “I mean, at this stage the five-year survival rate is thirty-nine percent, but most people with this are in their fifties or sixties. She’s only twenty-nine, and otherwise healthy. And that’s five years or more, it includes people that are completely cured. And like I said, she’ll have surgery, that will cut out most of the tumor, and the chemo will take care of the rest. God, we haven’t told George Michael yet, I don’t know how we’re going to tell him.”

Lindsay let him keep talking, struggling to pay attention. She was still fixating on that number, thirty-nine percent.

“Are you going to say anything?” Michael said, his voice breaking.

“Uh, I don’t—oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, panicking. What was she supposed to say?

“Thanks,” he said, suddenly sounding embarrassed, and still a little disoriented. “Uh, sorry, I’d better go, I don’t really know why I called.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, surprised. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you. Bye.”

She heard the phone click off.


	55. Part 2, Chapter 32

**July, 1999**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gAWCuPG94dA) glanced over at Tracey in the passenger seat as he stopped behind traffic. She was sitting in the bright sunlight, resting her face on her hand and looking blankly out the window. They’d taken George Michael out of school for the day and the three of them were on their way to the hospital for her hysterectomy. Michael was trying not to worry—in all likelihood she would be fine and she needed the surgery if she was going to make it through this—but he couldn’t stop thinking that something might go wrong and these could be his last few hours with her. Tracey and George Michael seemed to be just as nervous. Other than the sounds of the traffic outside, the car was dead silent.

Michael looked back at George Michael, who was also looking out the window with an anxious expression on his face. They hadn’t told him the full extent of the risks of the surgery and the illness in general, wanting to spare him from unnecessary worrying, but he seemed to have guessed from their recent behavior that it wasn’t as safe as they’d made it sound.

“Hey, George Michael,” Michael said, partly just to break the silence. “One of my coworkers told me about this great bike path around Lake Balboa, I was thinking you and I could go try it this weekend. Does that sound like fun?”

“Can Mom come too?”

“Oh, well, she’ll still be recovering from the surgery, but we can tell her all about it. Right, Trace?”

“What?” she said, looking over at him.

“I was telling him about that bike path,” he said. She’d agreed before that it was a good idea to do something with George Michael over the weekend to take his mind off of everything that was happening.

“Oh yeah, have fun,” she said distractedly, and lapsed back into silence.

Tracey had been very quiet since her diagnosis, especially when it came to the subject of her cancer. She only mentioned it when she needed to schedule doctor appointments, and even then she skirted around the topic as much as possible. Michael was going along with this, guessing that she was trying to keep things as normal as she could. He was feeling the same way. He’d gotten somewhat used to it now, but whenever he remembered that only a few weeks ago they’d had no idea this was going to happen he felt so angry, though he didn’t know who he was angry at. He wanted so much for all of this to go away, to wake up and realize it had all been a bad dream. He was confident that she would make it through this—he knew the chances weren’t good at this stage, but she had everything else going for her, she was young and healthy and determined to do whatever it took to get better. But it still meant putting all of their plans on hold and Tracey having to go through intensive surgery and chemotherapy, and it would be years before things returned to normal.

“Hey, Michael, I just realized I left my folder for one of my clients at home,” Tracey said. “Do you think you could go back and get it for me so I can work on it afterwards?”

“You’re going to work right after the surgery?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to fall behind while I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m sure your boss will understand—”

“Can you just get the folder?” she snapped.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, surprised.

“I’m not looking for your opinion, I’m just asking you to get it for me.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said quickly. “Which folder is it?”

“The red one. I think I left it on the nightstand.”

“Got it, red folder, nightstand.”

“Thanks,” she said, sounding a little guilty. She turned away and resumed looking out the window.


	56. Part 2, Chapter 33

**October, 1999**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyIHQsP9xIE) looked nervously around the conference room at everywhere but across the table from her, where Michael was sitting. She was in Los Angeles for the week to help with the newly-formed Bluth Foundation’s first fundraiser, an attempt by her father to improve the Bluth Company’s public image. The family was gathered in the conference room to decide upon a cause. Lindsay had voted for herpes. She’d contracted it while sleeping around during her senior year of high school and she was hoping the money they raised might help find a cure.

At the moment she was struggling to avoid eye contact with Michael. She hadn’t talked to him since he’d told her Tracey had cancer. She’d felt like she’d handled the news so badly that she hadn’t wanted to talk to him again. She’d convinced herself it was okay since it wasn’t like there was anything she could say or do to help, and they’d talked very rarely before anyway. But the cold look he’d given her when she arrived at the meeting had immediately told her she was wrong, and now she was feeling extremely guilty and uncomfortable and hoping she could escape the meeting without having to talk to him.

George Sr. pulled one of the slips of paper out of the jar. “Herpes…” he read. He pulled out another one. “Shrinkage…” He chuckled. “Somebody saw _Seinfeld_ last night. Neck flap… Ovarian cancer, gee, I wonder who that was. Another one for neck flap.”

“Yes,” Buster said, looking up from his video game and nodding.

“Well, I’ll be honest, I haven’t heard anything that beats herpes,” Lindsay said.

“Neck flap got more votes!” Lucille argued.

“Yes, that was the rule, the cause with the most votes wins!” Buster agreed.

“I don’t know if raising money for neck flap will help with our image problem,” George Sr. said.

“What about ovarian cancer?” Michael said indignantly. “That’s a real cause that will help with our image!”

“Everyone knows your wife has cancer, it will look self-interested,” George Sr. said.

“And herpes and neck flap aren’t self-interested?”

“Hey, I haven’t heard any arguments against shrinkage,” Gob sniggered. Michael looked at him incredulously, then stood up.

“That’s it, I’m done. Do whatever you want, I’m out of the fundraiser. Good luck pulling it off without me. I don’t know if it will help with the company’s image but I’m sure it will be memorable,” he said, and left the room.

 

* * *

 

Lindsay stood fixing her hair in the bathroom mirror. They’d just concluded the meeting. They hadn’t been able to agree upon a cause, so they’d decided to just go ahead and start planning the fundraiser and choose the cause later. She wondered if she should have stood up for Michael. She had felt sorry for him seeing their father shoot him down like that, especially considering everything that he was going through. But she was entitled to her own vote, and it wasn’t like their little fundraiser was going to cure cancer, anyway. And that was a little over the line for him to imply that her vote meant she actually had herpes. Still, she hoped he wouldn’t be even angrier at her now.

She left the bathroom and walked over to the elevator. It was a Saturday and the building was empty. She pressed the down button and waited. She heard a door open behind her and turned around. She jumped when she saw Michael coming out of his office.

“Oh, hi,” she said nervously. “I thought you already left.”

“Yeah, I decided to get some work done since I was already here,” he said. She hoped she was imagining the edge in his voice. The elevator doors opened and they went in. Lindsay quickly pressed the button, cursing her luck. They stood in silence until she couldn’t bear it any longer.

“So how are you doing?” she asked tentatively. He looked up at her.

“How do you think, Lindsay?”

She flinched. “Sorry, that was a stupid question.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said sarcastically as the elevator doors opened, and quickly walked away.


	57. Part 2, Chapter 34

**July, 2000**

[“That](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AV7NBtTZ9qU) was really fun,” Michael said as he drove George Michael home from their now-weekly bike ride, struggling to put some enthusiasm into his voice. It had been a long week. “This is turning into a good weekend tradition, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” George Michael agreed, less convincingly than Michael would have liked. He’d been trying to take George Michael out for fun activities like this whenever he could to take his mind off things and give Tracey a little time with the house to herself so she could rest.

“Dad?” George Michael said.

“What?”

“How is Mom doing?”

Michael looked over at him, surprised. “She’s fine,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to make sure,” he said, breaking Michael’s heart. He smiled at him reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, she’s going to be fine,” he said. “You know your mom, she can do anything she sets her mind to.”

“Okay,” George Michael said, though he still looked worried.

Michael wondered if he’d noticed any change in their moods recently. A few days ago Tracey had gotten her latest scan results, which had shown that after some initial success her cancer was no longer responding to the chemotherapy. They were in the process of signing her up for a clinical trial and were hopeful that she would have more success with that, but it had still been a significant blow to their optimism. This wasn’t part of the plan, he’d been sure the surgery and chemo would be enough. It didn’t make any sense. She was thirty years old, she shouldn’t have deal with this in the first place, and now the treatment wasn’t even working? And she’d been through so much, she’d lost all her hair and had to quit her job because the chemotherapy was making her so sick all the time, and it hadn’t even helped.

He guiltily wondered if they should have told George Michael about the scan results. Their family counselor had warned him and Tracey that they needed to be more honest with him so he wouldn’t be blindsided if things took a turn for the worst. But he was barely ten years old, and neither of them could bring themselves to make him more scared than he already was, especially when it might be unnecessary.


	58. Part 2, Chapter 35

**March, 2001**

Michael walked down the steps of George Michael’s friend’s house to his car, having just dropped George Michael off for a sleepover. He and Tracey were friends with the parents and they had invited George Michael over to help them out. They didn’t really need a break since George Michael was about as easy to take care of as a ten-year-old could be, but they’d accepted the invitation in an effort to keep him socially involved. He’d become increasingly withdrawn as his mother’s condition worsened and they were starting to worry about him.

He got into the car. As he closed the door he felt that combination of overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion that had been unexpectedly hitting him every so often over the last year. He tried his best to ignore it and started the car. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He pulled out of the driveway and started driving home.

It had been almost a year since the chemo had stopped working. They’d tried several clinical trials now but none of them had worked, and her oncologist was starting to talk about weighing the costs to quality of life against the potential benefits of continuing treatment. They hadn’t even considered it—as long as there was a chance something could work they were going to keep trying. But with each scan result it was getting harder to stay optimistic.

He arrived at their house and got out of the car and went inside. He could hear country music playing in the bedroom. He went in and saw Tracey sitting on the bed listening to the radio, a glass of vodka in her hand. She jumped when he came in.

“Oh, you’re back already,” she said, her words a little slurred. Michael looked at the glass of vodka with surprise. After her diagnosis she’d made a lot of lifestyle changes to try to stay healthy, including quitting drinking. That one was especially important, as alcohol could interfere with the drugs she was taking and increase the side effects.

“Sorry,” she said, her face filling with shame. “I know I said I’d stop. I just really need a drink right now.”

“It’s okay,” Michael said automatically, just so she would stop looking so guilty. “One time probably won’t make a difference.” He didn’t know if that was true, but he felt bad that it seemed like she’d been trying to hide it from him and he’d just noticed that her eyes were red like she’d been crying.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “This is the first time I have.”

He sat down on the bed with her. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Okay,” she said. “This treatment’s not as bad as the last one, I don’t feel so nauseous anymore.”

“Good. That’s really good,” he said emphatically.

Tracey nodded, then smiled wryly at him. “You wanna join me?” she said, gesturing toward the bottle of vodka on the desk.

Michael laughed. “Sure.”

“Here, you can have the rest of this, I probly shouldn’t have anymore,” she said, handing her glass to him. He took it and took a drink.

[A](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMD46LQUnlk) new song started on the radio, a slow, sentimental one sung by a deep southern voice. Tracey leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Michael wrapped his arm around her, surprised. It had been a long time since she’d shown him any physical affection. She’d become increasingly distant over the last year, always wanting to be alone and snapping at him over little things. He understood why, but it was hard to have her pushing him away all the time, especially when he was so worried about her.

Tracey lifted her head and kissed him, the sort of sloppy, open-mouthed kiss she hadn’t given him in almost two years. He laughed in surprise and kissed her back, setting his glass down on the nightstand. She sat up and put her hands on his face, kissing him with more intensity.

“Mm,” he said, pretending to be more into it than he was. The truth was that he wasn’t feeling very attracted to her at the moment with her bald head and tired, makeup-free face, but he didn’t want her to know that, and the sudden affection was a pleasant surprise.

She pulled away. “Ugh, I feel so unattractive. Can you get my wig?”

“Sure,” he said, getting up and going to the closet. “You’re plenty attractive already, though.”

She laughed. “That’s a lie, but I appreciate it.

Michael got her wig from the closet. They’d bought this one about six months ago after the first one had gotten worn out. Tracey had once again insisted on spending less than two hundred dollars and they hadn’t been able to find one in the right color. The style was right, long and curly, but the color was more brown than red, and despite the care she’d taken this one was beginning to show some signs of wear as well. He knew it didn’t matter, but it had been hard when she’d lost her hair. He’d always loved her bright red curls.

He returned to the bed and gave the wig to her. She put it on and straightened it.

“There,” she said. “And now…” She climbed on top of him and kissed him again. Michael laughed, still not feeling particularly turned on but enjoying the playful intimacy nonetheless, and the way her accent was coming back as it always did when she was drunk. He’d forgotten how much he’d missed this. Tracey slid her hands down his body and started unbuckling his belt.

“Mm,” he said in surprise as she took it off. They hadn’t had sex since her diagnosis. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah, doctor said six months after surgery, so we’re good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little annoyed, and kissed him again. He kissed her back uncertainly. He was still afraid of hurting her, and he didn’t really see her that way anymore, their relationship had changed so much. She didn’t seem all that into it either, just desperate.

“You get on top,” she said.

“Okay,” he laughed, a little turned on by that. He rolled on top of her and kissed her again, trying to focus on her body. He still loved how her soft, delicate frame felt underneath him. He kissed her neck and then her breasts and all down her body, trying to make her feel sexy. She wasn’t responding like she used to, the tension in her body seemed to come more from nervousness than arousal. He wondered if he should ask again if she was sure about this, but he didn’t want to annoy her again, so he proceeded to unbutton her jeans, trying to ignore her surgery scar as he did. She sat up and helped him pull them off along with her underwear, then lay back down as he climbed between her legs and began to lick her, nice and slow to make her feel like he was savoring the taste of her. He was starting to feel turned on now, it had been so long and he had always liked doing this, how it made her go crazy like nothing else. She didn’t seem to be enjoying it much at the moment though, lying there indifferently and dry as a bone. He wondered if the drugs she was taking were affecting her sex drive. He heard her groan. At first he felt encouraged, thinking it had been a groan of pleasure, but then he realized it had been out of frustration.

“Just…just stop, it’s not…I’m just not feeling it,” she said.

“Oh. Okay,” Michael said, feeling his face grow warm with embarrassment. He got up and lay down next to her as she pulled her jeans back on.

She sighed. “Well, that was kinda sad.”

“Yeah,” Michael laughed weakly. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, it’s not your fault,” she said quickly, laughing. “No, I’m just…I think it must be the drugs, or maybe the surgery, they said it might mess with my hormones or something. Sorry, I know it’s been awhile.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Michael said quickly. “Trust me, it’s the last thing on my mind.”

She smiled. “Thanks.” She turned away and looked up at the ceiling. “Damn it,” she whispered. Michael saw that her eyes were shining with tears.

“What’s wrong?” he said concerned.

She laughed and wiped her eyes. “Nothing, I just…really wanted this to work.”

“We can still cuddle,” he suggested. She laughed.

“Yeah, okay,” she said, snuggling up to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him as she rested her head on his chest.

[“So](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ipx8qWt2fVA) how are you doing?” he asked quietly. He felt her exhale slowly.

“Not great,” she said. “I’m so tired of all these bad scan results. I just keep finding out over and over again that I wasted even more time with something that didn’t even work.”

Michael closed his eyes. He’d been feeling the same way, though neither of them had voiced this thought to each other before. “Well, I guess each time you’re narrowing it down, right?” he said. “You’re getting closer to finding the one that works, so it wasn’t a waste of time.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, that’s a good way to think about it.”

Michael smiled, glad he’d come up with something reassuring to say. And it was true, there still might be something out there that would work, and the more treatments she tried the more likely it was that she would find it. He thought about what it would feel like to finally get some good news, for her to be cured and for them to go through the rest of their lives thinking of these few years as just a short, horrible chapter that had ended like everything else. He pushed the thought from his mind. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too much. He still didn’t believe he was going to lose her, but he didn’t feel like things would ever go back to how they’d been before either. All he could see in front of him was an endless cycle of failed treatments, and though he knew it had to end one way or another, at the moment it didn’t feel like it ever would.


	59. Part 2, Chapter 36

**June, 2001**

Michael lay in the dark bedroom, waiting for Tracey to join him. He could hear her throwing up in the bathroom. Her last treatment hadn’t worked and she’d just started a new, particularly aggressive one. He’d never seen her so sick. For the first time he was beginning to doubt if it was the right decision. He still didn’t want to accept that she might not make it through this, but he was running out of reasons to think she would. He didn’t know what to do. He knew if she stopped treatment there was no hope left that she would survive this, but he was starting to feel terrified that she was going to die no matter what they did and they were only wasting the time she had left, or maybe even shortening it, it couldn’t be good for her to be putting all this poison into her body when it wasn’t having any effect on the cancer. He’d never brought up the possibility of stopping treatment with her before, afraid to acknowledge out loud that it might be time to give up, but he was starting to think maybe he should, or at least make it clear that it was up to her. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he found out she’d continued longer than she should have because she’d thought he and George Michael wanted her to.

Tracey stepped into the bedroom and wordlessly got into bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said tiredly. They lay in silence for a while as Michael tried to find the right words. It was still hard to get up the courage to say it.

“Tracey?” he said tentatively.

“Yeah?”

He took a deep breath. “I just want to make sure you know that…if you want to stop treatment it’s okay, it’s your decision.”

“What?” she said softly. She sounded horrified.

“I just mean it’s up to you, you don’t have to feel guilty or anything if that’s what you want to do,” he said quickly.

“No. No, I don’t want to,” she whispered. She sounded almost betrayed.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he said, wishing he hadn’t said anything. She sounded really shaken.

“There’s still a chance this one could work,” she said weakly.

“Yeah, I agree, I think it’s worth a shot. I just wanted to make sure it’s what you want to do.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Okay,” he said, and they lapsed once more into silence.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRlptgSj9qM) impatiently checked the clock on the desk in his office. Tracey was getting her latest scan results right now and he was waiting for her to call him to tell him how it went. Normally he would have gone with her, but his father had finally put his foot down about Michael missing work to go to these appointments, threatening to cut off the money he’d been giving them for Tracey’s hospital bills. His comment about how it was like ‘pouring money down a sinkhole’ had almost been enough to make Michael tell him to go to hell and quit his job all over again, but he and Tracey had really come to depend on his parents’ money in the last year so he’d held his tongue.

He looked at the clock again. Her appointment had ended six minutes ago. She should be calling him any second now. He tried to prepare himself for bad news as he always did when waiting to hear her scan results, but he’d never really gotten the hang of it. He always just ended up praying desperately for good news.

He jumped as his cell phone rang and quickly took it out of his pocket. He saw her name on the caller ID and answered it.

“Hey, how’d it go?” he said.

“Um, badly,” she said haltingly. “It, um, the tumor grew by ten percent.” Michael closed his eyes, feeling all the energy rush out of him. “Can I come see you at your office?” she continued shakily. “I want to talk to you in person.”

“Yeah, yeah, come right over,” he said quickly.

“Okay. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes,” she said, and hung up.

 

* * *

 

Michael stood in the parking garage waiting for Tracey to arrive. He checked the time on his watch. She should be there soon, it had been almost twenty minutes. He looked up at the sound of a car coming around the corner and recognized Tracey’s car. He hurried over to where she parked.

“Tracey,” he breathed as she got out of the car. He hugged her. She hugged him back, clinging to him tightly.

“I talked to Dr. Booker,” she said shakily. “I think it’s time to stop treatment, it’s not doing any good.”

It felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He’d been thinking it for weeks now, that it was probably the best decision at this point, but now that she was saying it out loud he wasn’t so sure. He felt a little unsteady. She pulled away.

“I just want to feel healthy for a little while, you know, before things get worse,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “The treatment’s not buying me any time.”

“Yeah,” Michael said weakly. It felt like someone else was saying it. “That makes sense.”

“She says if I go into hospice care I’ll probably have about five or six months left,” she continued, her voice faltering. Michael’s breath caught in his throat. Five or six months, god, this was really happening. “Do you think it’s the right decision?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Yeah,” he said, his own vision blurring. He still felt like it wasn’t him talking, he wasn’t ready to give up, but some part of him knew she needed reassurance right now. “Yeah, like you said, it’s not doing any good.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, I’ll call Dr. Booker and tell her.”


	60. Part 2, Chapter 37

**November, 2001**

[“How](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dcIs3rAEytk) was school today?” Michael asked George Michael as the family sat around the table eating their dinner.

“Good,” George Michael said.

“How was English?” he asked. George Michael’s grades had been slipping in English.

“Good. He spent most of the time talking about the spelling bee.”

“There’s a spelling bee?”

“Yeah.”

“You should do it, you’re good at spelling,” Michael said eagerly. Their family counselor had recommended that George Michael get involved in more extracurricular activities.

“I don’t know…” George Michael said reluctantly.

“It will be fun, I’ll help you prepare. He should sign up, right, Tracey?”

“What?” she said distractedly, looking up from the salad she’d been half-heartedly picking at.

“There’s a spelling bee at his school, I was telling him he should sign up.”

“Oh yeah, that would be great.”

“Okay, I will,” George Michael said, though he still didn’t look very enthusiastic.

“Great,” Michael said. “It will be really fun, you’ll see.” He noticed Tracey was breathing heavily and quickly. “You okay, Trace?” he said, concerned. The cancer had recently spread to her lungs and she’d been having trouble breathing.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Do you want me to get the fan?” Sometimes putting a fan in front of her face helped.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Michael said uncertainly. She always seemed a little reluctant to ask for help.

She’d gone into hospice care five months ago. They’d opted for home care, meaning Michael took care of most of her needs and a team of doctors, nurses, and counselors visited throughout the week. In the first few months of it Michael had felt confident that they’d made the right decision. It had been such a relief to see her feeling somewhat healthy again. For the first time in two years she’d had the energy to do more than sit around the house, and they’d gone on regular outings to restaurants and the beach and even Disneyland to spend some time together as a family in the months they had left. Things had felt closer to normal than they had since she’d started chemotherapy. He and Tracey had even somewhat revived their sex life for a brief period of time. Her hair had started to grow back too, though it was only about two inches long and not as bright as before.

But now that her health was rapidly deteriorating he was starting to have doubts. He knew it was probably irrational, but he couldn’t stop wondering if the next treatment would have worked, or at least prolonged her life by a few months. It had gone so fast. And it wasn’t the same as it used to be. She’d become so withdrawn, spending all of her time reading or watching TV, and she was exhausted and buzzed on pain medicine most of the time. Sometimes she would try to spend some quality time with him and George Michael, but he could always tell it was taking a lot of effort and that she was only doing it because she felt like she had to.

George Michael had taken the news that she was going into hospice care very badly. They both felt incredibly guilty for not being more honest about Tracey’s condition so he would be prepared, but they’d both been so in denial that they’d convinced themselves there was no reason to. George Michael had become even more withdrawn than his mother since then. It was nearly impossible to get him to talk about how he was feeling. He always eagerly accepted whenever Tracey wanted to read to him or play a board game, though, and he often offered to help Michael with any of the caregiving duties an eleven-year-old could do.

Tracey’s mother had come to visit her a few weeks ago. She hadn’t called Tracey after her diagnosis, something Michael could tell had been very painful for Tracey, since she knew her aunt had told her about it. But Tracey had been too proud to call her, so their twelve-year silence had continued for another two. But once Tracey started hospice care her mother called her, and they’d arranged for her to visit. It sounded like she hadn’t been aware of how serious her condition was until then. It had been very awkward meeting the mother of the woman he’d been married to for almost twelve years for the first time, who looked just like an older, dark-haired version of Tracey. She’d seemed even more uncomfortable than he was, always fidgeting and looking around the room, especially when she’d met George Michael. But after their initial meeting she’d only visited Tracey when he was at work, and two weeks later she’d gone back to Alturas. It sounded like Tracey had gotten angry and blown up at her during one of her visits and that was why she’d left, but it was hard to discern anything concrete from the little that Tracey told him. She seemed to be relieved that she’d seen her mother one more time, though, even if it hadn’t been the warmest reunion.

Michael noticed Tracey’s breathing had become more labored.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah,” she choked, but her breathing only became more strained. She gripped the edge of the table.

“Mom?” George Michael said nervously. She didn’t respond, she just continued to gasp for breath. Michael’s blood turned cold.

“Get the phone,” he said to George Michael as he rushed over to Tracey. He stood there helplessly, having no idea what to do. All he could think of was getting the fan, but it didn’t seem like enough and he was afraid to leave her side. He looked up and saw George Michael watching her, frozen in fear. “Go!” he said frantically. George Michael got up and ran to the phone. “It’s okay, I’m going to call for help,” Michael said desperately. Tracey just kept on gasping for air, her face terrified.


	61. Part 2, Chapter 38

**December, 2001**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QSLA5ub1tw) walked through the hospital corridor to Tracey’s room, carrying flowers and a present. After her attack they’d made the difficult decision to have her hospitalized. It was hard on all of them for her to be away from home, but they needed to have doctors nearby at all times in case something went wrong again. Thankfully the hospital was close to their house and Michael and George Michael could visit her throughout the day. George Sr. had reluctantly let Michael use all his vacation time for the next year so he could spend more time with her. Tonight was their anniversary and Michael had dropped George Michael off at his parents’ house and come to visit her.

He reached Tracey’s room and knocked on the door, hoping she was awake.

“Come in,” he heard her say. He opened the door and saw happily that she was sitting up and reading and looking more alert than usual. She smiled when she saw him and set her book down.

“Oh, hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he replied. “Happy anniversary.”

“Oh, I forgot!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughed, sitting on the chair next to her bed.

“Those are beautiful,” she said, looking at the flowers.

He grinned. “Just like you.”

She laughed. “Oh  _my_.” He laughed, too. “There’s a vase in the cabinet over there,” she said, pointing.

“Okay,” he said, setting the present down on the chair and going to the cabinet.

“I’ve gotten so many flowers I’ve had to start keeping spare vases on hand,” she said as he filled the vase with water in the sink. “These are the best, though,” she added, seeming to realize that may have sounded ungrateful. He laughed.

“Really,” he said, looking at her over his shoulder.

“By far,” she laughed.

He laughed too and returned to her bed, setting the flowers down on the bedside table.

“Looks like you got me a present, too,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, handing her the box. “It might be the strangest anniversary present I’ve given you, but…”

She unwrapped the box and opened it.

“Oh, it’s a wig,” she said. “And it’s red!”

“Yeah, I found one,” he said, grinning.

“Wow, the color’s perfect!”

“Yeah, and I know it’s straight, but it’s human hair so you can curl it if you want.”

“Oh my god, how much did you spend on this?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. He’d spent over fifteen hundred dollars, wanting to go all out for what would in all likelihood be his last anniversary gift to her. She looked a little worried. His heart sank. He hoped this hadn’t been another misstep. But then she smiled.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m going to go look at it in the mirror.” She slowly climbed out of her bed. Michael stood up to help her. “Thanks,” she said, leaning against him for support. He helped her to the sink. She put the wig on and straightened it and adjusted the cap. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Michael smiled, too. She looked more like she used to.

“Oh, thank you so much, I love it,” she said with genuine emotion. Michael kissed her on the cheek. “I’m sorry I forgot,” she said.

“It’s fine, really.”

She smiled. “Okay, let’s go back to the bed,” she said. He helped her back. She got into the bed with difficulty and scooted over to make room for him. “Here, sit with me,” she said. He got into the bed with her. There wasn’t much room for both of them but he didn’t mind, he liked being close to her. “Where’s George Michael?” she asked.

“At my parents’.”

“That’s nice,” she said. “How do you think he’s doing?”

“Uh…I think he’s doing okay,” he said hesitantly. “Well, you know, it’s hard for him.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

“He loves coming to see you, though, he’s always asking to.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. She smiled and wiped them away. “That’s really sweet. Are you going to bring him here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I was thinking after school?”

“Perfect.”

She leaned against him. He wrapped his arm around her.

“Twelve years,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling.

“We were just kids when we got married.”

Michael laughed, remembering her telling him she was pregnant in the stairway of his dorm in Berkeley, how terrified they’d both been.

“I’m sorry we fought so much,” she said, her voice breaking. Michael looked down at her and saw that there were tears in her eyes.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, don’t apologize for that. That was as much my fault as yours. More, probably.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I just—I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, his own eyes filling with tears. He didn’t like this, it sounded like she was trying to get all this out before she died. “I love you, too. So much.”

She let out a sob and leaned against him again, wrapping her arms around him. “I just wish I had more time. It went so fast.”

“Me too,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.

“I shouldn’t have given up so fast.”

“What?”

“I’m not ready, I—I can’t leave George Michael, and you—” She broke off. She was getting really worked up now.

“Tracey, it wouldn’t have worked.”

“It might have bought me some more time,” she said weakly.

“It wouldn’t have,” he said firmly. “It was only making you sicker, it would have made it worse.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. The only sound was her short, shallow breaths. Her breathing had gotten worse in the last two weeks.

“You’ll take good care of George Michael?” she finally said.

“Yes, of course.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, you know, with his grades and things like that.”

“I know, I won’t,” he said, struggling not to feel hurt by this.

“Sorry, I know you’ll take good care of him, it’s just—it’s hard leaving him behind.”

“I know,” he said. It broke his heart to think about George Michael losing his mother so young. He didn’t know how to help him through it, he felt like he was doing such a bad job already. And he couldn’t picture their family without Tracey. He didn’t know if it would even feel like a family anymore with only two people. All those years they’d been married before her diagnosis he’d never thought it would end like this. He’d thought they would grow old together, at times he’d thought they might get divorced, but he’d never imagined that in a few years she would be gone completely.

He realized Tracey’s body had gone slack and she was breathing more slowly and rhythmically, asleep. He looked down at her. He didn’t want to go home yet, he couldn’t stand to be in the house without her. It felt so empty, and he couldn’t stop thinking that this was how it was going to be from now on. He took his phone out of his pocket and texted his mother, “ _can gm spend the night with u_.” He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he waited for a response, enjoying the warmth of Tracey’s body against him. A few minutes later his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and saw his mother’s reply, “ _yes_.” He texted back his thanks and set the phone down on the bedside table, then carefully shifted so that he was lying down. Tracey stirred.

“Oh,” she said confusedly. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m going to sleep here tonight, if it’s okay.”

“Oh,” she said, smiling. “Yeah.”

She took off her wig and set it carefully on the bedside table, then turned off the lamp. She lay back down and smiled at him in the darkness. He smiled back and kissed her.

“Love you,” he said softly.

“Love you, too,” she whispered. She scooted closer to him and rested her head on his chest. “Good night,” she said as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Good night.”


	62. Part 2, Chapter 39

**January, 2002**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DTb9MH3-Wo) walked through the now-familiar hospital corridor, carrying a box of sno balls, which were still Tracey’s favorite food after all these years. It was a cloudy afternoon and he was visiting her before picking up George Michael from school. He reached her room and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he heard her say. She sounded tired. He opened the door. She was slumped on the bed watching TV. She looked over at him as he came in.

“Look what I brought,” he said, showing her the box.

She laughed. “Sno balls.”

“And these are even special white ones for winter.”

“Oh…That’s sweet of you, but I’m not really hungry right now.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, disappointed. He set them on the counter. “I’ll leave them here in case you want them later.”

“Okay.”

He sat down on the chair by her bed, looking at her concernedly. She was barely eating anything now. He knew a loss of appetite was normal for someone in her condition, but she was getting really thin now and it was starting to worry him. The last thing she needed was to be malnourished on top of everything else. He’d brought it up with her a few times but it hadn’t done any good, and he didn’t want to fight about it.

“So I’ve been helping George Michael prepare for the spelling bee,” he said. “He’s been getting really good. I think he has a shot at winning.”

She smiled. “That’s great.”

“Do you want me to bring him over later?”

“Uh, yeah… How about this evening?”

“Sure.”

She turned back to the TV. He looked up and saw that she was watching a  _Seinfeld_  rerun.

“Oh yeah, this is a good one,” he said, recognizing the episode. She didn’t say anything. He looked uncomfortably at his watch. It wasn’t time to leave to pick up George Michael yet, but she clearly didn’t feel up to talking right now. He decided to leave early.

“Well, I’d better go get George Michael.”

“Okay.”

“See you this evening,” he said, getting up and kissing her on the cheek. “Love you.”

She smiled, though it was more of a grimace. He turned and left the room.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bDz2MZWKlM) sat in his car in the parking lot of George Michael’s school, languidly playing Snake on his cell phone. The leaves on the trees outside were rustling in the wind and the sky was pale gray. He’d arrived at the school about twenty minutes early and he was feeling very bored and a little guilty about leaving Tracey so much sooner than he’d planned. Her condition was worsening every day and every minute with her was precious, but she clearly hadn’t wanted him there. He wondered if he should still visit her tonight. It had seemed like she’d only agreed out of guilt. But she was expecting them now, so he should probably go. He’d try to cut the visit short if she still didn’t seem up to it. She usually made more of an effort when George Michael was there, not wanting to upset him by letting on how sick she was, but Michael could tell how taxing it had gotten for her.

He heard the school bell ring and shortly afterwards the students began filtering out of the building. A few minutes later he saw George Michael walking towards the car.

“Hi,” Michael said to him as he got in.

“Hi.”

“How was school?” he asked as he backed out of the parking space and slowly navigated his way through the chaotic after-school traffic.

“Good.”

“Good,” Michael said, disappointed by his short response. He hadn’t always been so quiet. He’d changed so much since Tracey’s diagnosis two and a half years ago. “Your mother wants to see you later,” he said, making it out of the parking lot and heading home. “I was thinking we could go over after dinner.”

“Yeah, sure,” George Michael said with more enthusiasm. He was always eager to visit Tracey.

Michael’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I’m a member of the house staff at Sherman Oaks Hospital,” a woman said on the other end. “Is this Michael Bluth?”

“Yes,” he said apprehensively, his heart beating faster.

“Is your wife Tracey Bluth?”

“Yes, what’s going on, is she okay?” he said quickly.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Michael’s stomach dropped. No, no, no, not yet. “Your wife has just slipped into a coma, we need you to come to the hospital as soon as you can.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” George Michael said anxiously.

Michael made an abrupt U-turn and started speeding towards the hospital.

“Dad!”

“What’s going on, is she going to be okay?” Michael said frantically, the world spinning.

“We’re doing everything we can. We need you to come here—”

“I’m on my way right now, please, she’ll come out of it, won’t she?”

“Dad, please,” George Michael said, his eyes full of tears.

“Jesus!” Michael said, seeing a car slam on the brakes to his right as he went through an intersection, realizing he’d gone through a stop sign.

“I can’t say at this point,” the woman was saying. “Come to the ICU when you arrive. When do you think you’ll get here?”

“Five minutes, please help her, I need to talk to her,” he begged.

“We’re doing everything we can,” she said again.

“Oh, god,” he said. He’d just be talking to her half an hour ago, he couldn’t lose her yet, he wasn’t ready, he needed to talk to her one more time.

 

* * *

 

[“Michael!”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kr4DNZz_8zI)

Michael turned to see Tracey’s aunt Sandy coming towards him. The funeral service had just ended and Michael was thanking Tracey’s friends and coworkers for coming while Gob tried to cheer George Michael up by showing him some magic tricks. Sandy gave him a hug. Michael awkwardly hugged her back, caught off guard.

“That eulogy was beautiful,” she said, pulling away and dabbing at her eyes.

“Thank you,” Michael said, feeling a flicker of annoyance at her leopard-print dress. That wasn’t appropriate for a funeral.

“Tracey was so lucky she found you,” Sandy continued. “Before she met you she was really struggling, I remember, she would get so quiet and sad. But then she met you and all of that changed.”

“Thank you,” Michael said, not sure what to say to that. He knew Tracey had had some emotional struggles growing up, but he thought it was going to college and cutting off contact with her mother that had helped her out of it, not meeting him.

“I’m so sorry Carol’s not here,” she said. Carol was Tracey’s mother. “She was really devastated when she heard, I think she was just too embarrassed to come.”

“It’s okay,” Michael said, though it wasn’t. He’d been seething with anger over the fact that Tracey’s mother hadn’t come to her funeral.

“She really did love her,” Sandy said, her eyes filling with tears again. “She just wasn’t ready to be a mother, but she loved her, I know she did.”

“I know,” Michael said, feeling overwhelmed. “I, uh, I’m going to step out for a second. Bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. It was so nice to see you.”

“Thanks, you too,” he said, and quickly walked away. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the room into the empty hallway. He walked aimlessly through the building, trying to get as far away from everyone else as possible.

He should have been nicer to Sandy. Tracey had always appreciated having one family member left who cared about her. He’d find her again when he went back and tell her that, but right now he just needed a break. He found a bench and sat on it, then leaned his head back against the wall and sighed in exhaustion.

Tracey had died five days ago. She’d never come out of the coma. The doctors had said there was no chance of recovery, and Tracey had said before that if she was ever in that state she wanted them to pull the plug. Ever since then it had been a whirlwind of funeral arrangements and contacting her family and friends and trying and failing to help George Michael through this. He’d been so busy it didn’t even feel like she was dead yet, he still felt like he could go to the hospital and visit her at any time. He even dreamed it, for three nights in a row now he’d dreamed that she was still alive and he kept forgetting to visit her and she was sitting alone in the hospital with no one to care for her and getting thinner and sicker every day.

Lindsay still hadn’t called him, much less come out for the funeral. She hadn’t talked to him since the Bluth Foundation fundraiser two years ago, but he’d thought she would at least call him now. He didn’t know if she was still mad about how he’d acted after the fundraiser meeting or if she just didn’t feel like putting in the effort, but either way it was a new low for her. He didn’t know why he’d ever bothered maintaining any kind of relationship with her. Sure, she was his sister, but that was it. She’d proven over and over again that she didn’t care about anyone but herself and he was tired of forgiving her for it.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Michael looked up and saw his mother.

“Oh, hi, Mom,” he said, his heart sinking. He didn’t want any company right now, especially not hers. He was still stinging from her and George Sr.’s complaints about paying the hospital bills.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“Uh…okay,” he said reluctantly.

“Oh, Michael,” she said, sitting down next to him on the bench and taking his hand. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

“I would’ve thought you’d be glad,” he said sarcastically. “Now you can stop ‘pouring money down a sinkhole.’”

She rolled her eyes. “Nonetheless, if there’s anything I can do, let me know. I could babysit George Michael again if you want, give you some time to yourself.”

Michael hesitated, then sighed. He did appreciate the offer, especially coming from her, who rarely did favors for anyone without expecting something in return.

“Thanks,” he said. “I think I’d better keep him with me, though, so he can have some stability.”

“You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m fine,” he said. She raised her eyebrows, making him hate her. “I mean, I’m not, obviously, but George Michael’s needs come first right now, he just lost his mother.”

“You just lost your wife.”

“Thanks, Mom, I’m aware of that.”

She sighed exasperatedly. He ignored this. Couldn’t she tell he wanted to be alone right now?

“She looked lovely,” she said. “She always was a pretty girl. I mean, not really at the end, but they did a good job with her. And the wig, that helped.”

“Can you go now?”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“Are you?”

“Yes, and it would be a lot easier if you would stop biting my head off every time I open my mouth!”

He sighed. “Sorry. I’m just…going through a lot, I guess.”

She squeezed his hand. “I know, sweetie, I know.” Michael hesitated, then interlaced his fingers with hers. She smiled. “Your eulogy was beautiful,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“She was lucky to have you as a husband.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said without thinking.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said, embarrassed. It was just that so many people had been saying that to him and it just made him feel worse. It had been spinning around his head ever since her death, every few hours he would be hit by another random memory of a time when he’d been angry at her or critical or unappreciative of how lucky he was to be with her. The more he tried not to think about it the worse it got. He felt like he was being crushed under this long list of ways in which he could have been better. Why couldn’t he just remember the good parts? “We just fought a lot,” he said. “I was too critical of her.”

“Well, that’s normal, all couples fight.”

“Not like this,” he said brokenly. “And it was my fault, I criticized her all the time. I told her she was a bad mother. And the law school disaster, too, I’m lucky she didn’t divorce me,” he said, his voice breaking and his eyes filling with tears. He quickly blinked them away.

“Oh, Michael,” Lucille said, hugging him. He let her, a little embarrassed by how good it felt. “Don’t beat yourself up, you were a good husband to her. You married her when she got pregnant, even though we were all telling you not to, you never cheated on her…”

“That’s such a low bar,” he choked.

“No marriage is perfect. Just look at me and your father.”

“I wanted to be so much better,” he said, remembering how determined he’d been when he’d married her to be better than his father. “I loved her so much.”

“She loved you, too.”

“You don’t know that.”

“She did.”

Michael thought about Tracey telling him she loved him on their last anniversary,  _you know that, right,_  and he couldn’t stop himself from crying anymore. Lucille hugged him more tightly. He hugged her back, not caring anymore. He couldn’t do this, he didn’t know how to live without her. She’d been in his life since he was a teenager. He couldn’t raise George Michael by himself, couldn’t figure out how to comfort him. He’d thought he would be somewhat ready, he’d had months to prepare himself, but now she was gone and he’d give anything for just a little more time. There had always been hope, even at the end there was always a chance that she’d survive longer than they expected. And she had, she’d lived seven months instead of five or six like her oncologist had estimated, but it still wasn’t enough. She should have had years, decades, she was thirty-two years old for god’s sake. There was nothing more he could do, no treatment that would save her or even prolong her life by a few more days, there was nothing left.

 

* * *

 

Lindsay sat in bed, checking her email on her laptop before she went to sleep. She felt a stab of guilt when she saw the one titled ‘Tracey’s Passing’ that Michael had sent out to the family three weeks ago. She really should delete it, it just made her feel guilty every time she saw it, but deleting it felt kind of wrong.

She still hadn’t called Michael. She’d meant to, she really had. She’d just been so guilty about not calling him before and clueless as to what she’d say to him that she kept putting it off, and before she knew it a week had gone by and then it just seemed too late.

She really did feel terrible about it. She and Tracey had never exactly been close, but it was still sad, only thirty-three years old. Was she thirty-three? She realized she didn’t actually know how old Tracey was, she’d just assumed she was the same age as her and Michael. And Michael must be devastated. She thought about how she’d acted when they got married, showing up to their wedding drunk and marrying Tobias out of spite. She wished she hadn’t, it all seemed so pathetic now.

But that was the problem, she’d never welcomed Tracey into the family, never made the slightest effort to get to know her, and what if Michael threw that in her face now? He’d been so angry at her the last time she saw him. And it had already been three weeks, the damage was done.

She looked at the email again, thinking of Michael distraughtly typing it, trying to decide if he should use the word ‘passing’ or ‘death.’ She shook her head and quickly deleted it.


	63. Part 2, Chapter 40

**May, 2002**

[“Come](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaLTUOTFbHw) on, Dad, tell me what the surprise is,” George Michael laughed as Michael took the exit off the freeway.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Are you getting promoted, is that it?”

“Oh, no. No, that’s not it. Someday, though, I’m getting there. And this might help with that.”

Michael had just decided to move into a model home in Sudden Valley, the Bluth Company’s latest housing tract, and he was taking George Michael to see it. Since Tracey died the house had felt so empty, like an essential part of it was missing, and it was so lonely out there with just him and George Michael, two hours away from his family with traffic. He’d been considering moving to Orange County to be closer to his family for a while now, but he didn’t know how they could afford it. They were still crippled financially from Tracey’s hospital bills, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask his parents for money again.

Then the company had unveiled the first model home in Sudden Valley, and he’d gotten an idea. He and George Michael could live there for free and maintain the house so it would look nice for potential buyers. It would give them a fresh start, bring them closer to his family, and prove his dedication to the company and hopefully convince his father to finally make him CEO. Recently he’d thrown himself into his work, mostly for the much-needed distraction, and he’d become more determined than ever to take over for his father as head of the Bluth Company. The more he thought about moving to Sudden Valley the more excited he got. The last four months had been unbearable, both of them struggling to go about their usual routines while ignoring the gaping hole in their lives where Tracey had been. He couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t keep going to sleep alone in the bed he’d shared with her for the last nine years and convince himself that he was okay. He needed some kind of change, and he was hoping this would be it.

“You missed the turn,” George Michael said as Michael passed the turn to his parents’ penthouse.

“Nope,” Michael said giddily.

“The surprise isn’t as Pop-Pop and Gangee’s?”

“No.”

Ten minutes later Michael reached the stretch of desert that would become Sudden Valley and started driving up the long road to the model home.

“Where are we?” George Michael said, looking confusedly out the window.

“You’ll see,” Michael said excitedly. He looked around them. This place really was a barren wasteland. But they would start developing it in a few months. He reached the house and parked.

“Well, here we are,” he said, getting out of the car.

“What is this place?” George Michael asked, getting out as well.

“This is our new home,” Michael said, gesturing at the house.

“What?”

“Well, temporarily. We’ll live here for about a year until I get the promotion and then we’ll buy a real home here.”

“Wait, we’re moving?”

“Yeah, I think a change will good for us. Plus we’ll be closer to Pop-Pop and Gangee and Uncle Gob and Uncle Buster.”

“But—I like our house now,” George Michael stammered.

“This one’s much better. It’s a lot bigger, we’ve got two floors plus an attic, three bedrooms, and we get to live here for free, which means a lot more spending money. It’s a model home for the Bluth Company.”

“A model home?”

“Yeah, but it looks just like a real house. Come on, I’ll give you a tour.” He went to the door and took out the keys he’d gotten from his father.

“Dad, I don’t know…” George Michael said. “I like where we live now. I’ve got friends there.”

“You can still visit your friends, we’re only an hour away. And you’ll make plenty of new friends here. You’re going to go to the same school your old man did.” As he opened the door one of the hinges broke and the door swung off of it. “Shit,” he said. “Shoot, sorry,” he corrected himself, glancing at George Michael. “I’ll fix that before we go.” He turned on the light. “So here it is! Isn’t this great?”

“Yeah,” George Michael said unconvincingly.

“Look at this,” Michael said, walking around the house. “Here’s the kitchen… This is much better than the tiny kitchen we have right now. And the living room, nice big TV…”

“What about Mom’s stuff?”

Michael stopped and looked back at George Michael, surprised. “What about it?”

“What are we going to do with it if we move?”

“Oh. Well, we’ll bring it with us, we’ll pack it all up. We’ve got lots of storage space in the attic.”

George Michael still looked worried. Michael walked over to him and wrapped his arm around him. “This will be good for us, trust me,” he said. “We’ll have a nice change of scenery, and we’ll be closer to family. Nothing’s more important than family, right?”

“Yeah,” George Michael said unenthusiastically.

“Exactly,” Michael said, patting him on the back. “Now let’s go see the upstairs.”


	64. Part 2, Chapter 41

**October, 2003**

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we are now beginning our descent into Los Angeles. Please turn off all electronics and make sure your personal belongings are stowed safely under the seat in front of you. The temperature is seventy-three degrees and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Thank you for flying with us, we do appreciate your business.”

Lindsay looked out the plane window at the familiar dry brown mountains below and the city and lilac evening sky beyond them. She and her family were visiting for a month to see her family, take a break from the cold Boston weather, and go to her father’s retirement party, where he would presumably make Michael CEO of the Bluth Company. Lindsay wasn’t thrilled about this development. She was still receiving a paycheck from when she’d worked there as a twenty-year-old, as well as relying heavily on company money for various charitable endeavors and personal expenses, and she couldn’t imagine Michael would allow that to continue. The timing couldn’t have been worse, as Tobias had recently lost his medical license for administering CPR to a person who, as it turned out, was not having a heart attack, and he was now out of work and they needed the money more than ever.

She wasn’t going to tell Michael she was in town just yet. She would see him at the party in a month, but he didn’t need to know she was here until then. She’d seen him once since his wife died at a family gathering when she visited a year ago. He’d barely looked at her, much less spoken to her, leaving her feeling incredibly embarrassed and guilty, and she wasn’t looking forward to a repeat of the awkward experience. She knew she should apologize for not calling him after Tracey’s death, but she felt so embarrassed about the whole thing that she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She was hoping enough time had passed that he wouldn’t be angry at her anymore, but just in case she wanted to wait as long as she could before seeing him again.


	65. Part 3, Chapter 1

**November, 2003**

[“Do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8O-a90Rb_TA) you have your check for your share of the party?” Michael asked his brother Gob, whom he’d met at Balboa Island, hoping to discuss his father’s boat party. George Sr. was going to celebrate his retirement and hopefully announce that Michael would finally take over for him as CEO of the Bluth Company.

“You know, I sort of thought my contribution could be a magic show,” Gob said, looking down at him from his segway.

“Oh, that’s perfect, Gob!” Michael said sarcastically.

“Thank you,” Gob said, apparently not picking up on the sarcasm.

“Or wait a minute. I just remembered something. Dad’s retiring, not turning six.”

“Hey, come on, I just bought this new illusion called the Aztec Tomb—”

“Come on, Gob, I don’t care—”

“—it cost like, eighteen grand, I’m gonna do it on the boat! Look, what do you care, can’t you just charge the party to the company?”

“No, it’s not a business expense,” Michael said exasperatedly.

“So what, Lindsay’s been staying at the Four Seas for like a month, she’s probably charging the company.”

Michael blinked. “Lindsay’s been in town for a month?” he said, taken aback.

Gob hesitated. “I don’t think so,” he said, and quickly rode away on his segway.

Michael stood there for a moment, a little stunned, as well as somewhat hurt. Jesus, had she asked the whole the family not to tell him she was here? Why would she do that? He thought back to the last time he’d seen her, when she’d visited a year ago. He had been pretty cold and distant, but he felt like it was justified since he’d been upset about her not calling him after his wife died. He was still upset about it, really, she had yet to apologize or even give him an explanation. And now she was enlisting the whole family in keeping the fact that she was here a secret from him? He decided to go confront his mother about it and find out what was going on.

 

* * *

 

Lindsay stepped out of the elevator onto her parents’ floor. She was stopping by their penthouse for a visit on the way back from a somewhat unsuccessful shopping trip. She opened the door and saw her mother.

“Couldn’t find a thing,” she said, walking in and setting her shopping bags down on the couch.

“Lindsay!”

She jumped when she heard Michael’s voice.

“Michael!” she said with a forced smile, turning to see him.

“How was your flight?” he asked.

“Great, great,” she said, walking towards him. “We just got in.”

“He knows,” Lucille said.

“A month ago,” she added. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, feeling extremely embarrassed and guilty. “I’ve been meaning to call you, I really have.”

“Really?” he said dryly.

“It’s just…been very busy,” she faltered, discouraged by his tone.

“Ugh, it’s been crazy,” Tobias chimed in.

“We just had an amazing fundraiser for HOOP,” she said cheerfully in an attempt to change the subject.

“HOOP?” Michael repeated.

“My anti-circumcision movement,” she said, a little annoyed that he’d forgotten.

“Hm,” he said.

“Believe it or not, we brought in over forty  _thousand_  dollars.”

“Unbelievable. Sounds like you saved enough skin to make ten new boys.”

Lucille gave him a disapproving look of disgust.

“Well,” Tobias laughed. “Most of that money was from the Bluth Company, I mean how—”

Lindsay quickly cleared her throat and gave him a warning glare. Michael looked at him in disbelief.

“—are you?” Tobias finished.

“Still good,” Michael said sarcastically. “You know what? You guys have had your hands in the company coffer for years, but starting tomorrow, there is going to be a new boss in town, and you’re all gonna have to start fending for yourselves. You’re all gonna finally feel that sweet sting of sweat in your eyes as Buster!” He turned to Buster, who was playing the drum he’d gotten for his class on Native American tribal ceremonies. “You can’t do that on the balcony, buddy?”

“Mom says it’s too windy,” Buster said.

 

* * *

 

Michael walked through the police station, looking for his family. After unexpectedly giving the promotion to Lucille instead of Michael at the boat party, George Sr. had suddenly been arrested for defrauding investors and spending company money on himself and the family. Michael had just finished talking to the S.E.C. and learned that his father was going to prison, and now he was trying to find his family to tell them the news.

It seemed that his family had reached the limit of how many times they could disappoint him in one day. First, he found out they’d all been hiding the fact that Lindsay was here for a month. Then they’d all celebrated as his father ripped the promotion he’d been promising him for years and years out from under him. He’d worked so hard for so long, he’d quit law school because his father had promised him he would make him CEO when he retired. But before he’d even had a chance to recover from that disappointment, his father had been arrested. He was starting to wonder why he was still living in the same state as these people.

He recognized Tobias’s voice coming from the end of a hallway. He followed the sound and found his family in a waiting room.

“Okay,” he said. “Guys, um… They are gonna keep Dad in prison, at least until this gets all sorted out,” he said, expecting some kind of reaction, but they all seemed unfazed. “Also, the attorney said that they’re gonna have to put a halt on the company’s expense account.”

Everyone gasped.

“Interesting, I would have expected that after ‘they’re keeping Dad in jail,’” Michael said.

“You know, Michael, Dad did name Mom as his successor,” Lindsay said.

“And I’m putting Buster in charge,” Lucille said, patting Buster’s head.

“That’s a good choice,” Gob said approvingly.

“Buster? The guy who thought that the blue on the map was land?” Michael said incredulously. They couldn’t be serious, he was the only one who had even worked at the Bluth Company, let alone knew how to run it.

“He’s had business classes,” Lucille said.

“W-w-w-w-wait,” Buster said, standing up. “Eighteenth-century agrarian business. But…well, I-I guess it’s all the same principles. Let me ask you, are you at all concerned about an uprising?”

“Okay, that’s it!” Michael said, finally losing it. “I’m done! I’m sick and tired of the greed, and-and the selfishness and all the taking, forget it, I’ve got a son to think about. And you know, and Lindsay, by the way,” he said, all his anger at her for not calling him after Tracey died rushing back when he saw her standing there looking so bored and unmoved. “I expected this from them because they’re completely oblivious, but you? You should know better.” He turned away. “Come on,” he said to George Michael, and left the room.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbbpMDw12sI) climbed through the trapdoor into the attic of the model home, hoping she would have more luck here than she’d had in the rest of the house. Michael had quit his job at the Bluth Company and he and George Michael were moving to Phoenix. With them leaving town, Lindsay had decided to scour the model home for valuables in a desperate attempt to salvage some of the family’s wealth before the potential collapse of the Bluth Company. So far it wasn’t going very well. Almost everything she’d found had turned out to be a plastic homefill.

She stood up and looked around the attic. She immediately noticed a box labeled ‘jewelry’ and went over to it, thinking that sounded promising. Sure enough, when she opened it she found a jewelry box with several expensive-looking necklaces and earrings in it.

 _“Yes!”_  she whispered triumphantly, combing through the jewelry and wondering who it belonged to and what it was doing stashed away in the attic of the model home. She opened a little blue velvet box and found what looked like an engagement ring inside.

Her breath caught in her throat. This must be Tracey’s. She looked at the box again and saw that the box was in fact labeled ‘Tracey’s jewelry.’ The ‘Tracey’s’ part had been hidden from view earlier by one of the cardboard flaps. She looked around her and saw that there were boxes all over the attic with labels like ‘Tracey’s sweaters’ and ‘Tracey’s pants + dresses.’ Michael must have put all this up here when he moved in.

She looked back at the ring, which she now knew to be the one Michael had given to Tracey fourteen years ago. She hesitated, then pulled off her own wedding ring and replaced it with Tracey’s. She stretched her fingers and twisted her hand around, examining it from different angles. She took it off and put her own ring back on, then put Tracey’s ring in her pocket. Not to sell, of course, just to hold onto for a little while.

She closed the jewelry box and got up and looked around the attic for more valuables among the things that weren’t labeled Tracey’s. Her eyes fell on some silver candlesticks. She bent down to pick them up, then jumped when she saw George Michael.

“What are you doing?” she said, startled. She hadn’t realized anyone was home.

“Packing up, what are you doing?” he said.

“Well, just looking for…you! To say goodbye to you!”

George Michael smiled. “I’m gonna miss you guys,” he said.

“Oh, well. We’ll come out and see you in…” she started to say, then realized she had no idea when they’d visit again. “Yeah, we’ll miss you too.”

“It’s been nice having you guys around,” he said as Michael walked in. “You know, to talk to. Since Mom died, it’s been kind of lonely, and… I just wish we could all stay here.”

“I-I need a hand with the van, please,” Michael said, sounding a little guilty. “Sorry.”

Lindsay looked back at him. Suddenly George Michael stepped forward and hugged her. She turned back to him in surprise. She didn’t know him very well at all, she’d only seen him a handful of times in his life. She smiled and awkwardly hugged him back. He pulled away, looking embarrassed, and went to join Michael. Lindsay turned and watched them go, thinking guiltily about how little she’d tried to get to know him or his mother. She needed to get back to Boston, she’d had enough family for a while.

 

* * *

 

[“Well,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NtP58x8xknw) I guess he really misses his family,” Michael said, sitting next to Lindsay on the step of the main floor of the model home. He’d just been surprised to learn that George Michael actually wanted to stay here with these psychos. He couldn’t imagine why he would want that, but he did feel a little guilty that George Michael felt so disconnected from his aunt, uncle, and cousin.

“Well, he doesn’t know us very well,” Lindsay said.

“Yeah, clearly,” Michael agreed. Lindsay laughed. Michael looked at her. He didn’t feel as angry as he did before, but he still wanted an explanation. “Let me ask you a question, where the hell have you been, why didn’t you call me?” he asked.

“Look at my life, Michael,” she sighed. “Tobias is out of work, we’re in debt. It’s…” She screwed up her face.

“What are you doing?” Michael said. “Are you trying to cry?”

“I’m sad,” she snapped. Michael raised his eyebrows. “Life is hard right now,” she continued. “I’ve got the JDL on my ass…”

“JDL?”

She sighed. “Jewish Defense League,” she muttered.

“Oh, the circumcision thing?” Michael groaned. “This is why I was against HOOP, why don’t you just mind your own business, Lindsay?”

“See, this is why I didn’t call you, Michael, because you’re so judgmental!”

“No, I’m not, I’m not judgmental.”

“And you’re disappointed in me.”

“I’m not disappointed in you—”

“You are.”

He hesitated. “So I’m disappointed in you, but come on, what is not disappointing about  _my_  life? I mean, Dad didn’t give me the promotion, Dad’s in  _jail_. How disappointing is that?”

“So we’re a disappointing family.”

“We’re an incredibly disappointing family!” he said. “But we are family. And I want my son to be happy, so…maybe we should be in each other’s lives.”

Lindsay smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” he said. She strained her face like she was trying to cry again. “Seriously, you’re gonna pull a muscle,” he said.

“Ugh, I used to be able to do this.”

He laughed. She smirked at him. He smiled back. He didn’t know why he was forgiving her so easily—she still hadn’t apologized or even explained why she hadn’t called him after Tracey died. But for some reason he just didn’t feel like staying angry at her anymore. He couldn’t help it, he missed her, and the last two years had been lonely with just him and George Michael. Suddenly the idea of having Lindsay and her family there with them sounded like just what they needed.

 

* * *

 

“Dad was always banker so there was no beating him,” Michael said as he rolled the dice. The family was gathered in the living room of the model home playing a game of Monopoly.

“Totally,” Lindsay agreed from the couch where she was lying, remembering the disastrous and sometimes violent ends to the Monopoly games they’d played as children.

“He should have been stocking up on those ‘get out of jail free’ cards,” George Michael joked.

“Oh! Good one, George Michael!” Gob said, giving him a high five.

“Very good,” Michael laughed.

“I wish you guys didn’t have to go so soon,” George Michael said.

“Oh. On that subject,” Michael said. “These guys are actually gonna be staying with us. For a while. Just your aunt. And her husband. Not Gob.”

“Really?” George Michael said excitedly.

“Yeah. What the hell, huh? Family first? Right? It is gonna be a little crowded though, so I think you’re gonna have to share a room with your cousin.”

Lindsay smiled at Michael. The day before he had surprised her by inviting her and her family to live with him and George Michael in Sudden Valley. When he’d said he wanted them to be in each other’s lives she’d thought he meant they should visit more often. At first she’d been uncertain about uprooting her life in Boston, but Tobias didn’t have a job anymore and there wasn’t really anything keeping them there anyway. And she was touched that Michael wanted her there, especially after the way she’d treated him over the last few years. It felt very strange to go from not speaking to each other to living together for the first time since high school, but she was looking forward to it. She felt like she’d been drifting aimlessly for a while now, and she was eager for a change.


	66. Part 3, Chapter 2

**December, 2003**

[“Lindsay?”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-KIZNjZ7ho) Michael called as he stepped into the model home. “Linds?”

“Out here!” he heard her call from outside. He walked through the dining room and out to the patio.

He had just learned that his siblings had been letting him ride his bike to work in 100-degree heat every day without telling him that they’d all been driving their father’s car for weeks. The initial friendliness between him and Lindsay had quickly dissolved into the constant bickering of their childhood as Michael remembered just how annoying she could be. He was so tired of seeing her lounging around the house all day and buying sixty-eight-dollar hair conditioner with company money while he was working round the clock to keep that company from falling apart.

He stepped out onto the patio and found her lying on a lawn chair in a robe and reading a gossip magazine. He clenched his teeth. Was she even going to try to get a job?

“Okay, where’s the car?” he said.

“What car? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said unconvincingly.

“Dad’s car. The one you didn’t tell me that you had, even though I had to ride my bicycle to work all week.”

“Oh,  _Dad’s_  car. Well, obviously I’m gonna use it if it’s an emergency,” she said, setting her magazine down and getting up and walking into the house. Michael followed her in, wondering if hair appointments and shopping trips were on her list of emergencies. “I have to get ready for the bachelorette auction,” she said.

“The bachelorette auction. You know you’re married?”

“You just go to dinner with the guy, it’s for charity,” she said, opening the fridge and taking out a spray can.

“That’s what you said about posing for the ‘Ladies of Literacy’ calendar. The one with the pictures of all the thirty-year-old women in lingerie with their nipples covered by copies of  _Oliver Twist_? Yeah, that made a big difference for the young ones.”

“Yeah, well, it would have if it didn’t get banned from the schools,” she muttered, spraying herself with the spray can and putting it back in the fridge.

“Come on, face it, you just do all this charity crap just to stroke your ego, you don’t even know what the auction’s for tonight,” he said as she got a sparkling water out of the fridge.

“The wetlands,” she said.

“To do what with them?”

“Dry them.”

“ _Save_  them.”

“From drying!” she said, walking past him. He raised his eyebrows. “Which is more than you would ever do, I mean, you’re like the least charitable person I know.”

Michael stared at her in disbelief. “I don’t do  _anything_  for myself.  _Everything_  that I do is for this family.”

“Oh, you don’t do it for us, Michael, you just do it because you love being the guy in charge! ‘Cause you love saying ‘no.’ Like you said to Gob, when he wanted a frozen banana. And even after he gave you the rights to his Mr. Bananagrabber character!”

“Alright, you know what?” he said as she walked away. For god’s sake, had Gob called her to complain about that while he was riding his bike here? “I will start doing my charity work when you start doing yours. In the meantime,  _where’s the car_?”

She turned back. “I think Buster has it, I don’t know. It’s on the schedule,” she sighed, pointing to a calendar on the wall and going back outside.

“There is a  _schedule_?” Michael said incredulously, looking at the calendar she’d pointed to. It was the ‘Ladies of Literacy’ calendar, in which Lindsay was featured this month. “I always try so hard not to look at this thing,” he muttered.

 

* * *

 

Lindsay stepped gratefully out of the smelly taxi and surveyed the wetlands she’d come to save. Wanting to prove to Michael that she was a charitable person, she’d joined a group of activists dedicated to preserving the wetlands. She saw the other activists at the bottom of a ravine and started walking down to join them.

She wished Michael could see her now. He was so arrogant, saying she only did her charity work to stroke her ego. She’d devoted over a decade of her life to causes like this one, which was much more than he could say. The warm feelings she’d had for him when she’d first moved in had quickly disappeared. She was so sick of him criticizing her all the time just so he could feel like he was better than her. She should call him now and tell him where she was, that would show him. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and called him.

“Hello,” she heard him say.

“I’m in the wetlands,” she said smugly. “I’ve got a poker thing and I’m gonna clean them up. So the next time you wanna tell me that I’m uncharitable, why don’t you just ask yourself, who called you from the wetlands?”

“Who is this?” he said sarcastically.

“Nice try. You’re the selfish one,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some nature to save.”

She hung up and triumphantly stuck her poker thing into the ground, then screamed when she realized she’d stabbed a frog.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cmec3mxpowM) walked into the ballroom of the Balboa Bay Country Club. He was here for the bachelorette auction, which his mother had roped him into coming to. As he entered the room he saw that Lindsay was on the stage up for auction. He saw with surprise that her skin was badly sunburnt, her hair was a mess, and she was covered in bumps and scratches. Had she really gone to the wetlands today? He’d thought she was lying.

“What do I hear for Lindsay Bluth?” the announcer said as Lindsay posed. Michael waited for someone to bid on her, but the room was silent. “Gentlemen, it’s a good cause.”

Lindsay’s smile faded. Michael looked around the room. Come on, someone was going to bid on her, weren’t they? He looked back at Lindsay, uncertain whether her face was red from embarrassment or the sun damage. Maybe it was because for once she’d surprised him in a good way, or because he felt guilty for not believing her earlier, but he impulsively raised his hand.

“One thousand!” he said. Lindsay looked over at him. Her eyes widened when she was who it was.

“Seriously?” the announcer said. Michael shrugged. “Sold! To the man who truly knows what charity is.”

Michael forced a smile and pumped his fist half-heartedly. Lindsay grimaced and turned and left the stage. 

 

* * *

 

Lindsay walked through the hallway of the country club, trying to figure out how she would get home. Maybe she could get a ride from Michael? She didn’t want to see him, she felt so embarrassed. But she didn’t want to wait for a taxi either, or worse, ride home with her mother, who was sure to have a lot to say about this. She must have looked so pathetic up there. And  _a thousand dollars_. Jesus, he really didn’t want her to be embarrassed. It was very touching that he cared about her so much, though it must have looked a little odd to the rest of the country club members. She was surprised Michael was okay with that.

She walked around a corner and saw Michael.

“Oh, hi,” she said, startled.

“Hi,” he said, looking a little embarrassed as well.

She hesitated, thinking she should probably thank him. She was extremely grateful that he’d saved her from the humiliation of having no one bid on her. But the whole thing was so embarrassing that she didn’t want to acknowledge that it had happened.

“Do you think you could give me a ride home?” she said instead.

“Yeah, sure,” he said.

“Thanks.”

They walked outside. Lindsay shivered in her strapless dress.

“Oh, here,” Michael said, taking off his jacket and giving it to her.

“Oh, thank you,” she said surprised. She put the jacket around her shoulders, ignoring the warm little thrill she felt. It smelled like his cologne and was still warm from his body. They stepped into the entryway, which was filled with people.

“Well, how embarrassing! My own brother buying me? I’d rather die!” she said loudly in an attempt to save face. She looked over at Michael, suddenly realizing it might look like she didn’t appreciate what he’d done. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Maybe you’re not that selfish.”

“Well, you know, you actually went out there, I was impressed that you gave it a shot,” he said.

They reached their father’s car. A shiver went through her as she felt his hand brush her back. He opened the car door for her. A police officer came up to them.

“Excuse me,” he said to Michael.

“Yeah?”

“Is this your car?”

Michael looked questioningly at Lindsay. Lindsay smiled warmly at him.

“Yes, it’s his,” she said.

Michael smiled back. The police officer turned him around and pinned him to the car.

“Ow!” Michael said.

“You’re under arrest for the forced abduction of Helen Maria Delgado.”


	67. Part 3, Chapter 3

**December, 2003**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dfrCkaZX0iQ) knocked on the door to Lindsay and Tobias’s room.

“Lindsay? Tobias?” he said. There was no answer. He glanced cautiously around him to make sure the hallway was empty, then quickly went into the room and set about opening drawers, searching for official-looking documents that might be related to any shady international dealings his father had done.

Michael had spent the last week trying to figure out where a mysterious and substantial amount of money in the international accounts of the Bluth Company had come from. His father refused to give him any answers and a thorough search of the office and his parent’s penthouse hadn’t turned up anything, so he’d decided to look in Lindsay and Tobias’s room. It was a long shot, but Lindsay and George Sr. had always been close and he wouldn’t put it past her to hide something for him.

Lindsay and Tobias were currently out of the house. They’d said they were going out for ice cream, but he thought it was more likely that they were going to marriage counseling, as he’d heard them screaming at each other about it the last few nights. He hoped they would have some success with it so he could finally get a good night’s sleep.

He found a drawer full of folders and documents, most of which appeared to be from Tobias’s former medical practice. He pulled the folders out one by one and looked through them, but with no success. He sighed in frustration. If his father would just tell him where the money had come from, none of this would be necessary. It seemed like he was the only one who understood how much trouble this family was in.

He saw what appeared to be a plain black photo album and took it out, thinking it was worth a shot. He opened it, expecting to see wedding pictures and baby pictures of Maeby and the like, but instead it was full of pictures of Lindsay in high school. He flipped through the album and found page after page of Lindsay with various friends and boyfriends he faintly recognized from their teenage years.

He stopped when he saw a picture of him and Lindsay standing on a pier. Next to it was a birthday card. Out of curiosity he lifted the plastic cover and pulled out the card and read it.

> _Lindsay,_
> 
> _Happy 18 th birthday! This past year has been hard, but it’s made me realize how much you mean to me. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. You’re my twin sister, my best friend, and the most important person in my life. I hope you know that._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Michael_

Michael looked at the card for a moment, surprised she had kept it for all these years. Had he really written that? The words were vaguely familiar, but it was hard to believe he’d written something so heartfelt to Lindsay. He looked back at the picture, which he now recognized as one they’d taken at Santa Monica on their birthday. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought this was around the same time Lindsay had been struggling with an eating disorder. She did look unhealthily thin in the picture, with hollow cheeks and twig-like arms and legs, though her face was glowing with happiness.

He was surprised and somewhat moved that she’d kept these for so long. It made him feel a little guilty, though he didn’t quite know why. It was just that he couldn’t imagine saying something like this to her now, and the fact that she’d kept this card for so long made him feel like she was clinging to a time when he would. It also made him a little uncomfortable. This was right around the time when their relationship had veered into very inappropriate territory. But it was just a picture and a card in a photo album full of other pictures from her teenage years. She probably never looked at it anyway.

He heard the front door open downstairs, followed by Lindsay’s voice.

“No, we’re not going back, that was a complete waste of time!”

Michael hastily put the card back in the photo album and started putting away everything he’d taken out of the drawer, suddenly feeling very guilty for looking through her stuff.

“I thought he was great,” he heard Tobias saying downstairs. “I certainly learned a lot.”

“Really,” Lindsay said derisively.

“Yes, and maybe if you’d been more open to the idea of therapy you would have learned something too!”

“Really, what do you think I would have learned?”

“That the only way this marriage is going to work is if you accept that my dream is to become an actor and support me instead of ridiculing it all the time!”

“You think  _that’s_  the biggest problem in our marriage?!”

Michael finished putting everything back where he’d found it and quickly got up and slipped out of the room and back to his own.


	68. Part 3, Chapter 4

**December, 2003**

[“I](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkU4kcfOP6Y) am  _so_  sorry,” Barry Zuckercorn, the family’s longtime attorney, said as he came into the penthouse from the balcony. “It was a client.”

Michael had called a meeting to discuss their father’s incarceration, but they were finding it difficult to get any answers. Lindsay was sitting next to Michael on the couch, wondering how much longer this was going to take. So far it had been a complete waste of time, and she was hoping to get some money from her mother after the meeting and, if that went well, do some shopping.

“How long was I on the phone?” Barry asked, sitting down.

“Twenty-five minutes,” Michael said impatiently.

“Twenty-five… Well, you know, with the cell phone charges I’m gonna round it out to about an hour, ‘cause it’s easier to bill. Anything else to go over?”

“We’ve got everything else to go over,” Michael said. “We haven’t done anything to get my dad out of jail.”

“Okay, first of all,” Barry said, putting his hand on Lucille’s knee. “What are you doing? Pilates? Because no forty-year-old woman should look like that.”

“Yeah, well, no forty-year-old woman does look like that,” Michael said. Lindsay laughed and nudged his arm. He nudged her back. They’d been getting along much better lately. She was feeling warmer toward him since he’d rescued her at the bachelorette auction, and he’d been nicer to her over the last week as well. The only problem was that it was making her even more short-tempered with Tobias than usual.

“I do have some big news,” Barry continued. “It’s going to cost you a little money, twenty-thousand, something like that.” Lindsay rolled her eyes. “The courts have agreed to let your father out of prison.”

“This is the lawyer!” Lucille exclaimed.

“He’s a master!” Buster agreed.

“For the entire afternoon!” Barry added.

“What?” Michael said. “What do you mean, ‘afternoon?’ What afternoon?”

“The day before Christmas! In time for the Living Classics Pageant, because I know how important that is to all of you.”

The Living Classics Pageant, an Orange County tradition, consisted of live representations of classic works of art. The Bluth family had participated not only as a patron, but as an integral part of its most popular exhibit, Michelangelo’s  _The Creation of Adam_.

“I don’t really want to be Adam this year,” Buster said tentatively to Lucille.

“Well, if you wanna play Eve, you gotta get in line behind what, about five homos?” Barry joked. Michael and Lindsay stared at him. “That was wrong,” Barry said. “I-I’m so sorry. It’s just that I have one down at the office now, and I mean it is  _every day_.”

“I would be happy to play Adam,” Tobias piped up. “Uh, I’d prefer a speaking part—”

“Please don’t speak for the rest of the meeting,” Lindsay interrupted.

Tobias laughed forcedly. “Zing!” he said, holding his hand out to Lindsay for a fist bump, but she ignored it. She really couldn’t stand to hear one more word out of him right now. She didn’t know why he’d even come to the meeting, she’d told him not to.

“No, no, seriously, I don’t want to play Adam,” Buster said.

“Buster,” Lucille said impatiently. “Every year we go through this song and dance and every year you say, ‘Thank you, Mama, for making me play Adam.’ You’re doing it.”

“Okay,” Barry said, slipping a pastry into his briefcase and getting up. “I’m gonna get out of your hair, we’ll talk about this money later in the week.”

“Excuse me,” Michael said, getting up and following him to the door. “We’re not going to pay twenty thousand dollars to get my dad out for one day.”

“No, no, it’s a  _bond_. It’s all refundable, unlike my time,” he chuckled.

“It’s been a complete waste of two hours, okay, we’re just not going to do it , and that’s that,” Michael said. Barry took out his notebook and wrote something down. “What are you doing, are you writing two hours?” Michael said.

“No, I’m taking notes on the case.”

“Let me see that.”

“I taking notes on the case!” Barry said, pulling the notebook away and closing it as Michael tried to see what he’d written.

“Let me see what you wrote!” Michael said, trying to take the notebook from him.

“You’re scaring me!” Barry said, and headed towards the door. Michael followed him, still trying to grab the notebook.

“Just leave it alone!”

“Let me see it!”

“Leave it alone,  _it is a gift from a client_!” Barry shouted, managing to escape with the notebook and slamming the door behind him. Michael turned back to the family.

“Barry’s very good,” Lucille said.

“He’s an idiot,” said Lindsay.

“Exactly,” Michael agreed. “And we’re not trying to get Dad out for a night. We’re trying to get him out for good. And we’re gonna get a new lawyer, I actually know of one who’s available. His name’s Wayne Jarvis, he’s a top guy.”

Lucille stood up. “You know, I am  _really_  happy that you two are in agreement,” she said, glaring at Lindsay, who rolled her eyes. “But we’re not getting rid of Barry. He’s like family, and you can’t fire family!”

“Yeah. I know,” Michael said sarcastically on his way out the door. “Hey, Maeby,” he said to Lindsay’s daughter, who had just walked in.

“Maeby, where have you been?” Lindsay asked, standing up. She hadn’t noticed she wasn’t at the meeting.

“You left me at home!” Maeby said indignantly. “You do remember you have a daughter, right?”

“Uh, yes, uh, of course we remember and we were worried sick, young lady!” Tobias said unconvincingly. “She’s fine. Our daughter is alright, everybody,” he said to the family as they filtered out of the room. Maeby angrily stormed out as well.

“You said you didn’t want her to come,” Tobias said to Lindsay.

“I said I didn’t want  _you_  to come.”

“Oh, that make more sense…”

“Now she’s going to think we’re totally self-involved!”

“I-I can fix this,” Tobias said. “Buster’s probably still in the lobby. Let me go see if I can’t get him to give me the part of Adam.”

“Okay, and I’ll see if I can get some money from my mom,” she said.

They split up, Tobias leaving the penthouse and Lindsay going over to her mother.

“Lupe!” Lucille called to her housekeeper. “There are some juice glasses on the sofa table.”

“Oh, Mama!” Lindsay said cheerily. “I’ll help you clean up!” She turned to Lupe. “There are some salad plates on the piano,” she said, and joined her mother in the dining room. “Wow, what a party. You make it look so effortless.”

“What do you need money for?” Lucille asked snidely. “A divorce?”

“No, Mom, Tobias and I are doing fine, thank you,” Lindsay snapped. “It’s my credit card debt.”

“Forget it.”

“Fine! I’ll ask Michael, he’ll give it to me.”

“Well, maybe if you get him drunk. It’s the only way he’ll give money to someone he calls a ‘stay-in-bed mom.’”

Lindsay looked at her, taken aback. “He said that about me?” she said.

“I thought it was harsh. But you know, he thinks you’re completely irresponsible. A stay-in-bed mom… Probably because you don’t work and you’re lazy. His words.”

Lindsay shook her head, hurt. “I can’t believe him,” she said, and turned and walked away.

“I know!” Lucille called after her as she left the penthouse. “Just when you were getting along so well!”

Lindsay stormed down the hallway and reached the elevator, pressing the down button with much more force than was necessary. How could he do this to her? She’d thought they were getting along so well. She’d felt like they were on the same team again, like when they were kids and it was always the two of them against their crazy family. But the whole time he was making fun of her behind her back, and to their mother of all people. Well, she’d give him a piece of her mind, she’d show the two-faced bastard he couldn’t treat her like this.

 

* * *

 

Michael stood in the kitchen of the model home and dialed Barry Zuckercorn’s number. He’d gotten a message from him earlier about his plan to have them pay twenty-thousand dollars to let George Sr. out of prison for an afternoon and he was calling him to reiterate that they weren’t going to do it.

“Law offices of Barry Zuckercorn,” he heard Barry’s assistant say.

“Yeah, it’s Michael Bluth for Barry.”

“I’m not here,” he heard Barry whisper over the phone.

“Uh, Barry’s not here, can I give her a message?” the assistant said.

“Tell her she needs to whisper a little softer next time,  _and_  I’m not paying for this phone call!” Michael said angrily, and hung up. Lindsay came down the stairs into the kitchen. “That’s it!” Michael said to her. “I’ve had it with this jerk Barry, I am going to make Mom sit down with Wayne whether she likes it or not.”

“You’re the jerk,” she said.

Michael looked at her in surprise. “Did I just wake you up? I didn’t even know you were home.”

“No, Michael,” she said heatedly. “I don’t just sleep all day.”

She stalked away into the living room. Michael followed her, confused.

“Where is all this coming from? I thought we were getting along.”

She turned around. “Yeah. So did I. And now I hear you’re telling our mother that I’m completely irresponsible and a ‘stay-in-bed mom.’”

“That doesn’t even sound like me, that sounds like Mom. Or Bruce Vilanch. Could be Bruce Vilanch.”

“Yeah, well then why would she say it?”

Suddenly it dawned on both of them.

“Because we’re getting along,” Michael said.

“Because we’re friends again,” Lindsay said at the same time.

“You gotta remember, Mom typically has nothing in her system except a bottle of vodka and an estrogen pill,” Michael said, picking up a bottle of vodka from the counter.

“Speaking of which,” Lindsay said, smiling wryly at him. He smiled back and pushed the bottle over to her and she poured two glasses.

 

* * *

 

[“Listen,”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukiXCK10zfU) Lindsay said, putting her hand on Michael’s knee, her words slurred from the seven drinks she’d just had. They were sitting on the floor, Michael leaning against the couch and Lindsay sitting cross-legged across from him. “You’re a  _great_  guy, and if she doesn’t see that, then someone else will,” she said, referring to Marta, Gob’s girlfriend who Michael was secretly in love with.

“You know what else, Lindsay, you’re great,” Michael said thickly, pouring himself another drink. “And I’m gonna move some money around if it’s gonna help you get out of debt, you know, I’d be happy to do that.”

“No, Michael—”

“Yeah, the hell with Mom, and here,” he said, raising his glass. “Mom’s never gonna between us again.”

“Yeah,” Lindsay agreed, clinking her glass with his. Michael leaned his head back against the couch. He was surprised at how much he was enjoying himself. He’d forgotten how much fun Lindsay could be to talk to, and it had been nice to finally be able to tell someone about his dilemma with Marta. He’d been trying to be nicer to Lindsay since he’d found the picture and birthday card, partly out of a sense of guilt for going through her stuff and partly because it had reminded him of how close they used to be and he felt bad that they’d drifted apart so much.

“It’s really nice living with you again,” Lindsay said Michael looked up at her, surprised. He smiled warmly at her.

“It’s nice having you here,” he said sincerely. He was really glad he’d asked her to move in. He felt so much less lonely now than he had before.

“It feels kinda like high school,” she said.

“Yeah, kind of,” Michael said, surprised. He thought again about the birthday card and picture. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.

“We were so close then,” she said. Her tone was light but there was a tension in it that made him nervous.

“Yeah,” he said, a little apprehensively. She didn’t mean  _that_ , did she? No, of course not, it had been more than ten years since they’d even talked about it.

“A little too close,” she added.

Michael opened his eyes. He lifted his head from the couch and stared at her. She smirked like it had been a joke, but he was so caught off guard that she’d even brought up the subject that he didn’t know what to say. He laughed uncomfortably and looked down at the floor.

“Yeah,” he said. He shook his head and laughed again, still not meeting her eyes. What was she doing, bringing that up? “I thought we were pretending that never happened.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said jokingly. “I think it’s been long enough now.”

“Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “No, it hasn’t. It will  _never_  be long enough,” he said, keeping his tone light but trying to get the message across all the same.

“Okay, okay, I got it,” she laughed. “I won’t bring it up again.”

“Thanks,” he said gratefully. He wished she hadn’t said anything. They’d been having so much fun and now things were all awkward.

Lindsay sighed and lay down on the floor. “I’m too tired to go upstairs. I’m just gonna sleep here.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “On the floor?”

“Yeah, on the floor,” she said, stretching her arms.

“You know, there’s a couch right there,” he pointed out.

“Ugh, fine,” she groaned, sitting up and getting unsteadily to her feet. She tripped and fell against the wall, causing the light fixture to hit the floor with a crash.

“Whoa,” Michael said, getting up automatically to help her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, turning to face him. Michael’s heart skipped a beat when he saw how close she was, her face inches from his and his arm around her waist. He felt a sudden urge to kiss her. He quickly stepped away, feeling extremely confused. What the hell was  _that_?

“Sorry about the light,” she said, sounding similarly confused.

“It’s fine, happens all the time,” he said, not meeting her eyes. They stood in silence for a moment. It was nothing, it was just like those dreams he’d been having about her every now and then since she moved in, it didn’t mean anything.

“Well, I’m going to sleep,” Lindsay said, staggering to the couch and collapsing on it.

“Yeah, me too,” Michael said gratefully, wanting to get away from her as quickly as possible. He turned and left the room.

“Good night,” Lindsay called after him.

“Good night,” he said without looking back.

 

* * *

 

“How’d it go?” Lindsay asked, standing up as Michael walked into the waiting room at the police station. After their mother had once again succeeded in pitting them against each other, they’d hatched a plan to get back at her. Lindsay had recently seen some flowers at Lucille’s penthouse with a note saying, ‘Can’t wait for the pageant! Your hopeful lawyer,’ leading them to believe that Lucille and Barry were going to the pageant together on a date. So they’d used the money they were going to use for Lindsay’s credit card debt to get their father out of prison for the Living Classics Pageant so he’d catch them, getting back at their mother and allowing them to hire Wayne Jarvis instead of Barry. However, their plan had unraveled when it turned out that Lucille was actually dating Wayne Jarvis and George Sr. had attempted to escape from the pageant so they couldn’t bring him back to prison.

“Well, the bad news is you’re in debt again,” Michael said. Lindsay sighed. “And we never busted Mom,  _and_  we’re stuck with Barry. The good news is we’ve been asked never to participate in the pageant again.”

Lindsay laughed. “Well, at least we’re still pals, huh?”

“Yeah…” Michael said. “That’s not really doing it for me this time.”

He turned and left. Lindsay thought this over. “Yeah,” she agreed, shrugging. It had been nice to be so close to him over the last two weeks, but it had started to feel weird. It was probably best if things just stayed normal between them.


	69. Part 3, Chapter 5

**February, 2004**

[“This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpoBYs_JmZg) is so  _fun_ ,” Lindsay gushed to Lucille, spilling a little of her drink as she moved her hand for emphasis. She, Michael, Gob, and Tobias had tried to stage an intervention for Lucille to convince her to get help with her drinking problem. However, the effort had derailed when they’d all gotten drunk themselves in preparation for the intervention in case she was angry. But although the intervention hadn’t worked, it had turned into one of the Bluth family’s better parties.

Lucille laughed. “You see, a little alcohol never hurt anybody.”

“Yeah, I dunno why we did this intervention thing. I think it was Michael’s idea.”

“I should’ve known,” Lucille chuckled. “You know, my supposed ‘drinking problem’ is the only reason he exists in the first place.” Lindsay burst out laughing. “Come to think of it, that’s the only reason any of you kids are here,” Lucille mused. “Except you, of course. Though I think I might have had a little too much to drink when I signed the paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Lindsay said, confused.

“Hospital bills,” Lucille said quickly. “When you were born. When you and Michael were born. Maybe this alcohol actually is getting to me.”

Lindsay laughed. “Me too. This is so fun though, we should do stuff like this more often.”

“I’m all for that. I’d better get going, though, I’m supposed to meet Lucille Austero for dinner.”

“No, stay a little longer,” Lindsay protested. It was nice to be getting along with her mother for once.

“Sorry, dear, I have to get going,” she said, and got up.

Lindsay leaned back against the couch dejectedly as she left and took another sip of her drink. She looked over to the dining room. Gob was sitting at the table sobbing uncontrollably and Michael seemed to be trying to comfort him while wearing what appeared to be a Franklin wig.

“And you don’t care about Franklin, and you don’t care about me!” Gob was saying, using Franklin’s track suit to wipe his tears.

“Come on, Gob, that’s not true,” Michael said, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Hey, Michael, get over here,” Lindsay said. She wanted someone to talk to now that her mother had left.

“Oh, hey, Linds,” Michael said, and got up and went over to her, looking grateful for the excuse.

“Oh, sure!” Gob said angrily. “Just leave me here, like you always do!”

“No, Gob…”

“No, I’m done with you!” Gob said, getting unsteadily to his feet. “I’m done with alla you! Come on, Franklin, we’re goin’ to bed,” he said, and stormed off to the bedroom with Franklin, slamming the door behind him. Lindsay looked over at Michael, eyebrows raised. He sighed exasperatedly and collapsed onto the couch next to her.

“Jeez, what’d you do?” she said.

“He wanted to make Franklin the official Bluth Company mascot,” he sighed, his words slurred.

She laughed. “Speaking of Franklin, is that a Franklin wig?”

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed, taking it off. “Long story.”

She laughed again. “How much’ve you have to drink?”

“ _Way_  too much,” he laughed.

“Now your hair’s all messed up. Here,” she said, leaning over him and trying to fix his hair.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t, I think I made it worse,” she laughed. She looked over at Buster and Tobias. Buster was banging loudly on the piano and Tobias was dancing giddily, wearing only his cut-offs. “So… Not a very successful intervention,” she said.

Michael laughed. “Not exactly. I forgot we were even doin’ that.”

“Might be even worse’n the one you did for me in high school.”

He laughed. “Oh yeah. Tha’ was a disaster.”

“Yeah… It was sweet, though.” She rested her head on the couch and smiled at him. “You were so sweet back then.”

He laughed. “But not anymore?”

“Hm…” she said. “No, you’re still sweet. Not as much, though.”

He laughed. She laughed too, then lifted her head from the couch and looked at Tobias, who was now sitting on the floor crying. She groaned.

“My husband,” she said, waving a hand at him.

“Oh wow,” Michael laughed.

“God, that’s annoying,” she said, referring to Buster’s piano playing. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

“Okay,” Michael said.

Lindsay got up, struggling to keep her balance on her heels. Michael followed her into the kitchen. She crossed the kitchen and closed the other door to block out the noise. Michael closed the door they’d come through.

“You look nice tonight,” he said as she closed the shutters too. “I like that dress on you. And your hair like that…”

“Thank you,” she said, turning around, feeling a little fluttering sensation. “You’re lookin’ pretty good yourself,” she added playfully. Michael laughed. She walked past him to the pantry. “Now let’s see what Mom has in here,” she said. “Ah, here we go.” She picked up a bottle of Cloudmir vodka.

“You’re getting  _another_  drink?” Michael said.

“Yeah, why not?” she laughed. She poured two glasses and gave one to him. He laughed and took it. She raised her glass.

“To… To…” she said, trying to think of something to toast to.

“To Mom’s sobriety,” Michael said.

Lindsay laughed. “To Mom’s sobriety,” she agreed and clinked her glass with his and took a drink.

She sat down on the floor and leaned against the cabinets, really feeling fuzzy now. Michael sat down with her. Lindsay fumbled with the buckle on her shoe. She could still hear Tobias crying loudly in the living room.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Remind me why I married him?”

“Uh… I was never actually clear on that…” he said. She laughed. “No, he’s a good guy, Lindsay.”

“Yeah, fantastic,” she muttered sarcastically, finally managing to get her shoes off. “D’you know how long it’s been since we had sex?”

“I thought you did two weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah,” she said. Two weeks earlier Tobias had managed to overcome his never-nudism for the first time in three years. “Doesn’t count though, he just lay there.”

“I don’ need any details.”

“ _And_  he cried.”

“He  _cried_?”

“ _Yes._  How d’you think that makes me feel?”

Michael sighed. “I don’t think it’s about you, Lindsay. I think he’s just…not attracted to women.”

“I know,” Lindsay said gloomily. “Wish I’d known that before I married him. And the never-nude thing. D’you know when I found out about  _that_?  _On our honeymoon._ ”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “How’d you not know before then?”

“Because,” she said theatrically. “He said,  _he wanted to wait until marriage._ ”

“Oh wow,” Michael laughed. “Okay, I can see why you’re mad.”

“Thank you!” she said. “Ugh, it’s been so  _loonnggg…_ ” She leaned against him and nuzzled his shoulder.

“Okay, Lindsay…”

She sat up and took another sip of her drink. She already felt like she was a glass or two away from collapsing, but she really wanted to get totally obliterated right now.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s been a while for me too,” Michael said.

Lindsay laughed. “Really? How long?”

“Uh…” he said. “I think it was…three years ago?”

Lindsay guffawed. “Wow. You need to get laid.”

Michael laughed. “Yeah, I really do…”

“You haven’t been with anyone since your wife?”

“No,” he sighed.

“What about Marta?”

“No, we never did. We were  _so close_  and then Mom had to call me right then and ruin it all.”

“Well, the last time I had sex with someone who didn’t cry afterwards was…” she said, struggling to focus her clouded mind enough to the do the math. “Five years ago? Jesus.”

Michael smirked. “He didn’t cry five years ago?”

“No, I had an affair.”

Michael’s eyes widened.

“Well, don’t look at me like that!” she said indignantly. “The man’s psych—psycha… psy-cho-log-ic-ly, that’s a hard word. Wha’ was I saying?”

“You had an affair?” he said, clearly amused.

“Oh yeah. You can’t blame me is the point.”

“Really.”

“Yeah!” she said, spilling her drink on herself as she waved her hand for emphasis again. “Oh, shit,” she said, looking down at her legs and the hem of her dress, which were now covered in vodka. She groaned and got unsteadily to her feet. Michael stood up too as she got a washcloth and ran it under the sink.

“So who was the affair with?” Michael asked, walking over to her.

She laughed. “His name was Paul,” she said, wiping her legs and dress with the washcloth. “He was  _really_  sexy. Rich, successful businessman type.”

“Did Tobias ever find out?”

“No.”

“Jesus.”

“Shut up,” she groaned. “He prolly assumed, I left him for a little while.”

“So what happened? Why’d you stop?”

She sighed. “He dumped me.”

“Aww…”

“Yeah. Ugh, five years. We both needa get laid.” She laughed and looked up at him. “Wait a minute…” she said jokingly. “I might just have a solution.”

Michael’s eyes widened. He laughed and looked away, his face turning red. “Okay, I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that…”

She laughed, enjoying making him uncomfortable. “Yeah, it’s a one hundred percent… hundred… Shit, what was it? Hundred percent all-natural family band…  _Family_  solution, ha!”

“Oh  _god_ ,” Michael laughed.

“So whadya say?” she said, leaning back against the counter opposite from him and running her hands over her body and pushing her breasts up. “You want some of this?” Michael doubled over laughing. “Yeah?” she said.

“No,” he said through his laughter, shaking his head. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“Oh, come on, I know you do,” she said teasingly.”

“What?” he laughed.

“You’ve  _always_  been attracted to me.”

“Oh my god,  _one time_  when I was…eighteen, and you won’t let me forget—”

“You still are, I can tell.”

“Really,” he said sarcastically.

“Yeah.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“‘You look nice tonight, I like that dress on you…’”

“Shut up,” he laughed, his face turning even redder. “I can’t give you a…fuckin’, compliment without you…misinterpreting it?”

“Come on, I know how you feel about me,” she said stepping towards him and running her hand up his arm.

“Whoa, we’re doin’ this now?” he said as she pressed her body against his, pinning him to the counter.

“Mm hm,” she laughed. “Now admit it you, you love this.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“Not until you admit it,” she said, thinking she probably had gone too far, but she was having too much fun to stop.

“Lindsay…”

“Come on,” she said teasingly, loving to see him look so confused. “Give your sister a kiss.”

[He](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TTAU7lLDZYU) raised his eyebrows and laughed weakly. She saw his eyes drift down to her lips and then to the kitchen door behind her. Her heart skipped a beat. Was he actually considering it? She stood frozen as he slowly raised his hand and put his finger under her chin, then tilted her face up towards him and kissed her softly on the lips.

He pulled away and laughed like it had been a joke. “Happy?” he said.

She just stared at him, trying to process what had just happened. His smile slid away when he saw the look on her face. His own face turned red.

“Sorry, tha’ was inappropriate, I shouldn’t have—” he started to say, but before he could finish she kissed him again.

He stood still for a moment as she kissed him, then hesitantly parted his lips slightly and kissed her back. They pulled away and stared at each other in shock. She looked searchingly into his eyes, trying to figure out what was going through his head. She could tell he was thinking the same thing about her. Then they kissed again, a little less hesitantly than before, though there was still a cautious tension between them. He caught her lower lip in between his lips and caressed her face, his other hand on her waist. She could barely move, none of it felt like it was real. It was only because they were drunk, she’d gotten over all that years ago, but god, he still had feelings for her, after all this time…

They jumped at the sound of the door opening. Lindsay immediately pulled away from him and stepped back just as Buster walked into the kitchen, singing something about Mother’s Day Eve to himself.

“Oh,” he said when he saw them. “Hey, brother and sister.”

They didn’t say anything, both too stunned to speak. Buster walked between them to the fridge and got himself a juice box, then left the kitchen. Lindsay looked up at Michael, her heart still racing. He looked back at her, the shock and confusion plain on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and quickly followed Buster out of the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8SCyfngicw) sleepily opened his eyes, his head aching. He realized confusedly that he was in Buster’s room. He looked over and saw Buster lying next to him.

“Oh, hey, Buster,” he said.

“Hey, brother.”

“Wha… What happened?” he asked. He had no memory of how he’d gotten there. All he knew was that he was feeling more hungover than he’d ever felt in his life.

“We had a party last night and you wanted to sleep here.”

“Oh. Yeah… Yeah, that’s right,” he said, remembering that he and his siblings had tried to stage an intervention for their mother but had gotten drunk and had a party instead. He couldn’t remember anything else, though. He had a vague, lingering sense of shame, like he’d gone to bed regretting something, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He was sure he’d done something embarrassing. He should stop drinking like this, it wasn’t healthy.

He sat up and groaned as a wave of nausea hit him. He got up, wanting to get a drink of water to help the dryness in his mouth. He walked into the hallway, stepping over Tobias, who was sleeping on a pile of couch cushions and blankets on the floor. He went into the living room and saw Lindsay sprawled out across the couch asleep, wearing the same black dress she’d been wearing last night.

He stopped. He’d just been struck by a fleeting memory of kissing her in the kitchen. He felt a flash of panic, along with some more nausea. Was that what he had been ashamed of? No, that couldn’t be it, even if he was drunk he would never… It must have been another dream, that was all, but it had felt so real… And she was wearing the same dress, he remembered noticing it last night. He shuddered. What if they’d done more than kiss? They couldn’t have, he would have remembered it, wouldn’t he? He wasn’t even sure if he’d kissed her, the dress didn’t mean anything. It would make sense that she’d be wearing the same thing in his dream that he’d last seen her in.

He went to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. He saw two empty glasses and a bottle of vodka on the floor. He remembered sitting there with her. That must have really happened, the glasses were there. And there was a washcloth in the sink. Hadn’t she spilled her drink on herself? His heart started beating faster. If those parts were real, wouldn’t that mean the kissing was real too? And what if she remembered it, what if she told everyone when she woke up? No, she wouldn’t do that. He didn’t even know if she would remember it, or if there was anything to remember in the first place. He looked back at her sleeping on the couch in the living room, trying to convince himself it was all in his head, but he was having more and more trouble believing it.

 

* * *

 

Michael stood in the kitchen of the model home mixing himself a Bloody Mary. He, Lindsay, and Tobias had returned home and Lindsay was currently asleep upstairs. He’d spent the drive home surreptitiously watching her for any signs that she remembered anything from last night, but if she did she was doing a good job of hiding it. He was starting to lose hope that it had been a dream, but if Lindsay didn’t remember anything he could just move on like nothing had happened. He couldn’t be sure, though, he’d only said a few words to her that morning, as she’d slept through the drive home.

“Ugh, I am never drinking again.”

Michael looked up and saw Lindsay coming down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen and sat down heavily at the counter.

“Are you making a Bloody Mary?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Can I have some?”

“Sure,” he said, getting another glass for her. He poured in the tomato juice mixture and mixed in the vodka, discreetly glancing up at her as he did. He still couldn’t see any sign that she remembered anything inappropriate happening between them the previous night.

“So how are  _you_  feeling?” she asked dryly.

He laughed. “Awful. You?”

“Same. Let’s never try to do an intervention again.”

“Mm,” he agreed emphatically, sliding her glass over to her. She took it and drank. He drank his own. He hesitated.

“So how much do you remember from last night?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and joking.

She laughed. “Nothing. The whole thing’s a black hole. What about you?”

Michael inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. “Same here,” he said.


	70. Part 3, Chapter 6

**February, 2006**

[“Hello!”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgxjElvllCs) Michael said as he came into the penthouse. The family had gathered there for a celebratory brunch, catered by a local restaurant, Skip Church’s. They were celebrating the fact that the Bluth Company had been upgraded from ‘don’t buy’ to ‘risky’ on  _Mad Money_.

“Risky! Risky! Risky!” everyone chanted when they saw him. Buster did a little dance, cutting the fingers off his prosthetic hand with knife he was holding in the process. He’d lost his hand a year earlier when he was attacked by a loose seal while swimming in the ocean.

“Oh,” he said, looking down at the severed plastic fingers on the floor.

“Look at that, Buster, you would have lost a hand anyway,” Michael said.

Lucille tapped her glass. “I’d like to make an announcement,” she said. The family quieted down and looked at her. “We need to finish the party we started three years ago. Finally name Michael CEO of a thriving company!” she said, raising her glass.

Everyone cheered. Lindsay joined in, smiling at Michael. She still would have preferred that her father be in charge of the Bluth Company, as it would be easier for her to get company money when she needed it, but he was still under house arrest and Michael had pretty much been in charge for the last three years anyway, and she was glad that he would finally have the official title he wanted so much.

“We’ll prove to the world that nothing can tear apart the Bluth family,” Lucille continued. “In fact, I’ve already rented the same boat.”

“Oh, I’m not comfortable near the ocean since the seal attack,” Buster said. “The ocean is my second biggest fear.”

“Good, don’t come. I need to be rubbing elbows, not working your fork,” Lucille said, taking a sip of her champagne.

“We’ll find a new venue,” Michael said, patting Buster’s shoulder.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Lucille said. “No magic, Gob.”

There was no answer. Michael looked around. “Where is Gob?”

“Oh, who knows?” George Sr. said, putting some bacon on his plate. “I don’t even know where he lives.”

“He doesn’t live at Michael’s?” Buster asked.

“I’ve always pictured him in a lighthouse,” Tobias mused.

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael said. “Mom, I’m just really flattered that you’re willing to do this. And I was half worried that you’d all be eager to sell your shares and cash out.”

Everyone looked at him.

“Wait, we can do that?” Lindsay said.

“Yeah, but Stan Sitwell’s always had a wild hair to buy this business.”

“It’s the only hair he’s got,” Lucille said snidely. “What?” she said when Michael looked at her. “He’s an alpaca!”

“He has alopecia,” Michael said exasperatedly. “And Lindsay, you know, if we did sell, it would only mean, like what, two million dollars each?”

“Two million! Two million! Two million!” the family cheered.

“That sounds like a lot more than it actually is, you know, you’ve already spent twelve hundred dollars on eggs,” Michael said. “And that would be it forever. Keep in mind, we are building something that is not only for our kids, it’s also for George Michael and Maeby’s kids, too.”

“W-w-wait, what, we—we can’t have kids, what’s the matter—what are you say—” George Michael spluttered. “It’s not even an option really.”

“Well, eventually you’ll want to.”

“Sure, I may want to, you know, now, I—I—it doesn’t matter, it’s just, either way I won’t do anything about it. Come on!” He laughed nervously.

“Michael’s right, and I, for one, won’t go back to wondering whether there’s going to be enough food on the table,” Lucille said as the caterers set a fourth Skip’s Scramble on the table, causing it to creak ominously.

“Whoa, might want to start worrying about the table,” Michael said.

Lindsay got up and walked over to him.

“It’s fine for you to say, ‘don’t sell,’ but I’m going to be forty in three years, you know?” she said. In the last few months she’d become determined to divorce Tobias and marry someone else before her fortieth birthday.

“You know, being twins, our birthdays are pretty close to one another,” Michael said.

“Yeah, but a forty-year-old woman has as much chance of getting married as she does of getting attacked by a shark—”

Buster cried out in terror. They looked over at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were going to say seal,” he said.

“Or seal,” Lindsay said.

“Oh god!”

“Lindsay, you have nothing to worry about, you’re a beautiful woman, any man would be lucky to have you,” Michael said.

Lindsay smiled at him, twisting her hair around her finger. She loved when he said things like this. She liked to think that it was an unconscious expression of his attraction to her. She knew all that had ended a long time ago, but she could tell he still had feelings for her, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself.

“Oh, let’s not forget, you’re already married,” Michael said.

Lindsay glared at him, her affection instantly evaporating. She stalked off in annoyance. She hated how Michael was always judging her for not putting in more effort to make things work with Tobias. She’d put in sixteen years of effort and it hadn’t done any good. Anyone could see that their marriage wasn’t worth saving, including Michael if he could get over himself long enough to actually think about it. But she didn’t care what he thought, she was getting out of this marriage and into a new one before she turned forty no matter what it took.

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHpjeCkVT2I) sat in the parking lot of Sitwell Enterprises in the staircar, which was growing dark in the fading evening light outside, trying to get her emotions under control enough to drive home.

After the brunch, she’d gone over to the rival housing company to tell Stan Sitwell that she was not going to sell her shares, and to inquire as to how much money he would give her if she did. During the meeting, he’d accidentally let slip that she was adopted, and a week away from her fortieth birthday. She wasn’t worried about being adopted—in fact, she was thrilled to learn that she wasn’t a Bluth. It was the part about being three years older that was hard to stomach. She’d caused quite a scene when she’d learned this information. After the security guards had carried her out of the building she’d called her mother, who had confirmed that they had indeed adopted her out from under the Sitwells when she was three years old as part of their ongoing, one-sided war against their competitor.

She tried to look on the bright side, anything to block out the heavy feeling in her stomach from having the last, precious three years of her thirties unexpectedly stolen from her. She wasn’t a Bluth, she was only connected to this twisted family by some cruel accident of fate. Maybe that was why her mother had always treated her so cruelly—no, not her mother, she was just some evil woman who had taken her from a nice, loving family just to stick it to them, ruining her life in the process. She wasn’t related to any of those nutcases, not Gob, not Buster…

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized—she and Michael weren’t related. She sat open-mouthed for a moment as the realization sunk in. All that drama when they were younger and the whole time they could have been together, there wouldn’t have even been anything wrong with it. Her heart started beating quickly. All that misery and heartache, those years of thinking she was crazy, and the whole time he was just someone she’d grown up with, nothing more than that.

They could still be together, the only reason he’d been pretending not to feel anything for her all these years was that he thought she was his sister, but if that wasn’t a problem… But she didn’t want to be with him, did she? She’d gotten over that more than a decade ago, she’d sworn to herself she would never go down that road again. But it was only because it had been too painful to keep loving him when he was determined to never show her any love in return. She knew he still had feelings for her, and now there was nothing in the way of them being in a relationship, a real, public relationship. Hell, they could even get married, it wasn’t against the law now.

Did she want that, though? She really didn’t feel that way about him anymore, at least not like she used to. It wasn’t like when she was younger, when she’d felt like he was the only person she could ever be happy with. Still, she could see herself marrying him. He was a good guy, and he loved her, he actually loved her for who she was. And though she hated to admit it to herself, she did still find him attractive. God, their lives would have been so different if they’d only known this when they were teenagers. They could have gotten married. They could have gotten married right out of high school, there wouldn’t have been any point in waiting, they were so in love with each other at the time. And she would have never married Tobias, and he never would have given Tracey a second look. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered him telling her he was getting married, those months spent waiting desperately by the phone after he’d left for college, and none of it would have happened if they’d only known.

She suddenly let out a cry of rage. Her mother had known. She’d known the whole time that she was adopted and she’d never bothered to tell them. She’d known there was something between them, Lindsay could still remember the look on her face when she’d given her that wedding invitation all those years ago. A lump rose in her throat and her eyes filled with more tears. She’d seen her life falling apart in the two years after he left, she’d known how she was suffering and she could have stopped it all, all she had to do was tell them. But she’d kept it to herself, just one more way to torture her daughter without her even knowing she was doing it.

But she’d undo it all now, she’d marry him. She’d marry him in the next month, a week maybe, before she turned forty. That had been the plan anyway, she’d been trying to find someone to marry before she turned forty. Yes, she could see herself marrying him. It wouldn’t be all that different from her life now, they’d already been living together for the last three years. But they’d kick Tobias out of the house, and the kids too, they were graduating soon, weren’t they? And they’d sleep in the same bed every night, they could even have sex. Jesus, they really could, it wouldn’t even be incest. She felt a warm rushing sensation at the thought. They could do it tonight, she could go home right now and tell him. Yes, tonight when everyone was asleep, and then she’d ask him to marry her. It was all coming together, she’d still get married before she turned forty, she’d undo the wrong her mother had done to her, and she’d leave the last twenty years behind her, marry him like she would have done years ago if she’d only known. She started the car and headed home.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NxxjLD2pmlk) lay in bed, gradually waking from a fitful half-sleep and turning over the events of the day again in his head. He’d been tossing and turning all night worrying about the future of the company, what he would do if too many family members sold their shares, and, most of all, George Michael’s confession earlier that day that he’d made out with his cousin, Maeby. God, it was just like him and Lindsay in high school. At least they were only cousins, not twin siblings, but it was still very disturbing. Was the universe trying to punish him or something by making his son live out the same scenario with her daughter?

He rolled over, then sat up with a start when he realized someone was lying next to him. He turned on the lamp and saw Lindsay lying awake and looking up at the ceiling.

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

“A little,” she replied. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” he said, turning away from her and putting his face in his hand. “Are you aware that your daughter and my son have been getting physical? I mean, can you imagine anything more inappropriate?”

She suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back onto the bed, then climbed on top of him.

“Hey!” he said in surprise. “I guess you can, what are you doing?”

“I’m not your sister,” she said breathlessly.

“What?”

“I’m adopted!”

“Hey, Lindsay—”

“And I’m three years older,” she said with less excitement.

“Hey, there must be some mistake.”

“No, Mom confirmed it,” she said, smiling down at him and pulling at his shirt. “And I know you’ve always found me attractive. You’ve been telling me that for the last…forty years!”

Michael pushed her off of him and got up off the bed. “Please, Lindsay, this is crazy,” he said. She stood up too and wrapped her arm around him. “Hey!” he said, trying to pull away.

“If I don’t get divorced and remarried in the next month I’m gonna sell those shares and I’m gonna cash out!” she said, pulling him closer. “So what d’you say?”

Michael looked back at her in disbelief. Had she just said she wanted to marry him? She must be mistaken, of course she was his sister.

“I’m just not that into…older women,” he said, thinking that would get rid of her if nothing else did. Sure enough, she let go of him. He started to walk away, still not entirely sure what had just happened but relieved that she’d let him go.

 _“YOU BASTARD!”_  she screamed.

“Ah!” he yelled as she grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to the ground.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bAkvb2Rhces) sat at the computer checking his email, struggling to focus as he was distracted by thoughts of what happened with Lindsay the previous night. Earlier that day he’d gone to his mother and asked her about it, and she’d confirmed that Lindsay was indeed adopted. Michael was struggling to wrap his head around the idea. He knew it didn’t matter, but it was still a shock. His whole life he’d thought they were twins, and now it turned out they weren’t even related. Even more unsettling was how Lindsay had reacted to the news. He’d had no idea her feelings for him were still strong enough that she’d want to sleep with him the second she found they weren’t related.

It was still wrong, of course. They may not be biologically related, but she was still his sister. They’d grown up together, and they’d always thought they were siblings until now. If they actually did enter some kind of relationship, everyone they knew would be scandalized. Not that he wanted to, of course, that had all ended when he was a teenager. Thank god they hadn’t known they weren’t related at the time. He didn’t know what would have happened if they had. It did make him feel slightly better about what had transpired though, knowing it hadn’t technically been incestuous. Maybe deep down some part of him had sensed that she wasn’t actually his sister and that was why it had never bothered him as much as it should.

And she wanted to get  _married_. It was only because she wanted to marry someone in general though, she’d been talking about that for months. Was it even legal? He doubted it, even adopted siblings probably couldn’t marry each other. She must have been mistaken about that.

He hesitated. He glanced around him to make sure no one was there, then opened a new tab on the computer and did a something search of ‘can adopted siblings marry.’ It wasn’t because he wanted to marry her, no way in hell. He just wanted to confirm that she’d been mistaken that it was legal.

He quickly scanned the results, feeling very uncomfortable as he did. He gleaned that adopted siblings could not marry in the United States, but that laws concerning sexual relations between them varied by state. Unable to contain his curiosity, he searched for ‘california incest laws.’ He clicked on the first result and looked through the page for information about adopted siblings. He found that sex between adopted siblings was legal in California, but that for biological siblings the penalty was up to three years in jail and a lifetime on the sex offender list, even if it was consensual.

Michael closed the tab and cleared the search history, feeling a little sick. They’d gotten so close when they were teenagers. Of course, no one would have ever found out about it and she was adopted anyway, but he hadn’t known that at the time. He couldn’t help but think that the penalty was a little harsh. He knew it was disgusting, but it had clearly been consensual and hardly seemed deserving of a prison sentence. Maybe that was fair, though, maybe he and everyone else in this goddamn family were just too messed up to realize it.

“Well, I see you’ve filled my seat hole.”

Michael jumped and turned to see Tobias standing in the doorway.

“What?” he said, startled. How long had he been there?

“Wow, you are white as a sheet!” Tobias said. “The computer. I need it.”

“Oh. Sure, here you go,” Michael said shakily, getting up.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just a lot going on, you know, with the party.”

“Don’t I know it!” he said sitting down at the computer. “Let me tell you, getting those Hot Cops to fill your opening is next to impossible.”

“Opening?” Michael repeated.

“For the party. We’ve got a whole stretch of time with no performers if they don’t show, but they are taking their sweet time in responding to my emails.”

“Right,” Michael said, remembering that he’d put Tobias in charge of planning the shareholder’s party so he could give him a Bluth Company salary and convince him not to sell his shares. He quickly left the room, feeling immensely grateful that Tobias didn’t seem to have seen anything.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XY6alp2SdI) climbed aboard the  _C-Word_ , Gob’s boat that George Michael had just taken off in during the shareholder’s party after he’d learned that Gob was dating his ex-girlfriend, whose name Michael couldn’t remember at the moment. He went up to the cabin, where he found George Michael driving the boat.

“George Michael, what are you doing, where are you going?” he said.

“I can’t stay here,” George Michael said. “Ann’s moved on, Maeby’s my cousin. We both know that’s not an option.”

Michael hesitated. He’d spent the last two days debating whether or not he should tell him, but he was going to find out eventually either way. “Buddy, Maeby is not your cousin,” he said reluctantly.

George Michael looked over at him. “What?”

“Yeah, I found out a couple days ago. Aunt Lindsay was adopted.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because you can’t be with Maeby. You’re fifteen and so inevitably the relationship is going to fall apart, and then what do you do?” he said, thinking about all the drama that had unfolded between him and Lindsay when they were teenagers. Their relationship had never completely recovered, they still weren’t as close as they’d been as kids. “She might not be a blood relative but she is still family, and that’s a bond that lasts forever. You don’t wanna rock that boat.”

Suddenly the boat rocked violently back and forth.

“What the hell was that?” Michael said, holding the chair for support. He heard the horn of the Queen Mary blaring along with the sound of police sirens. He looked out the window and saw police boats chasing the Queen Mary, which was now sailing off into the harbor.

“Lucille Bluth!” one of the police officers said through a megaphone. “Please pull over and step away from the historic ship!”

“I think Gangie’s trying to make a break for it,” Michael said.

“Well, I guess we should go back. Family sticks together, huh?” George Michael said, reaching for the lever to turn the boat around.

“Yeah,” Michael said, stopping his hand. “On the other hand, we do have a full tank of gas, a house in Cabo, and five hundred grand in cashier’s checks.” He sat down in the driver’s seat with George Michael and put his arm around him. “Let’s say we give them no choice but to keep themselves all together for a while,” he said, and pushed the lever to continue out to sea.

 

* * *

 

[“They](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnwB5M1SC30) are persecuting me! It was an accident! This is ridiculous!” Lucille said to the police station at large, where the family had been taken after Lucille’s failed escape attempt from the S.E.C. in the  _Queen Mary_. Now Lindsay was soaking wet and in a very foul mood from her fall into the ocean after the boat had tipped onto its side. Lucille turned to her. “If I’d told them we were taking a bunch of gays out there to get married, they’d have thrown me a parade,” she complained. Her eyes lit up. “Let’s tell them we were taking a bunch of gays to get married!”

“Yeah, I don’t think your record on that issue is going to back that up, Mom,” Lindsay said testily. Her mother had recently protested gay marriage in an offensive and slightly incestuous cover photo with Buster for the  _Balboa Bay Window_.

“Fine, we’ll say that they took it on a joy ride. And you have no right to criticize me. At least I was able to turn my queen around.”

“None taken,” said Tobias, who had just walked in. “Oh!” he said when he saw the Hot Cops, who were currently dressed as hot seamen, and hurried over to talk to them. Lindsay glared at Lucille.

“You cannot say one nice thing to your daughter, can you?” she said.

“Adopted daughter,” Lucille corrected. Lindsay’s eyes widened. “And that’s not true.”

A police officer walked into the room.

“Can I have the Bluth family over here, please?” he said, gesturing to an area labeled with a paper that read, ‘BLUTHS.’ “And over here, the victims of the Bluth family?” he said, pointing to an area labeled ‘VICTIMS.’

Lindsay looked at the two signs. Suddenly she felt like the second label fit her much better than the first. She walked over to the victims area.

“No, Lindsay, you’re going to the wrong area,” Tobias said, grabbing her arm. “Kenny, Chet, Curtis, Mike, Bix, and Gator are over here,” he said, gesturing at the Hot Cops. “We should be over here at the Bluth area with Gob and Buster and, uh… uh… ugh, your brother, uh…”

“Michael?” Lindsay said.

“Michael! Yes,” he laughed. “Sorry, I was thinking of Mike, the hot seaman. No, where is Michael?”

“He doesn’t matter, he’s not my brother,” Lindsay said bitterly. “This isn’t my family. No, I’ve spent years—”

“Yes!” Gob interrupted, running in between them. “Got my yes! I got that big yes.”

Lindsay watched him run away, confused, then decided she really didn’t care what he was talking about. “I’ve spent years trying to fit into this family, and it’s not me,” she continued. “My life is a fallacy.”

“Oh…” Tobias said comfortingly, then broke into song. “…is that a gal I see? No, it’s just a  _fallaceeee_!” he sang, spinning around. “We loved that! Where is that from?”

It was from nothing, but it made her realize something else.

“I don’t know if there’s a right time to say this,” she said. “But this marriage of ours, it hasn’t been working. Yeah, there is nothing keeping us together. It’s time to give up our dreams if they’re not working. You know, your acting career, this marriage that everyone thinks is a sham because you’re gay.”

“W-w-I-I’m sorry,” Tobias stammered. “Everyone thinks I’m gay?”

“Well, I mean, it’s kind of a running joke in the family,” Lindsay said, surprised he hadn’t realized. “I mean, you know that, right? ‘Cause of the misleading way you talk sometimes.”

“You’re saying the way I talk makes me sound gay?” he said disbelievingly. He laughed. “When in the last year have I said anything remotely misleading?” Lindsay gave him an incredulous look. “Is this because I want to be an actor, and all the leading men in Hollywood are gay?”

“I don’t think that all the leading men in Hollywood are gay.”

“Oh, honey.”

Lindsay sighed. “Look, we’re chasing things that aren’t real. Maybe we need to go out there and— and find out what we’re mean to do.”

Tobias’s smile faded. “I…” he said. “I believe we’re thinking the same thing.”

Lindsay nodded. “We should end it.”

“Let’s give it another shot!” Tobias said at the same time. Lindsay looked at him in surprise. “To the head, kill it,” he added quickly. “Yes.”

Lindsay turned to leave. Tobias suddenly lunged forward and kissed her shoulder. She ignored this and kept walking until he stopped and scurried away. She looked back at him, confused and slightly repulsed, then sat down heavily on a bench.

She’d been struggling over the last two days not to admit to herself how lost she felt, but something about falling into the ocean when her adoptive mother tried to escape from the police in a historic ship had made her realize she needed to make a change. In a few days she would be forty, and she felt just as miserable as she had seven years ago when she’d thought she was thirty.

This was all compounded by the hurt and embarrassment she was still feeling from Michael’s rejection two days earlier. She didn’t know why she’d thought he would marry her. Of course he still wouldn’t be okay with it, even if they weren’t biologically related. She’d just been in such a state after having three years stolen from her, and she’d grabbed onto the possibility of marrying him and turning her life around like a lifeline. Now he would think she’d still been in love with him this whole time. It was so frustrating, because she hadn’t been, she really had gotten over him years and years ago. Why had she let herself think about him that way again? Hadn’t she learned that it always left her feeling worse than before?

She didn’t want to see him for a while. She needed to get away from all of them, she needed to find out who she was, who she would have been if she hadn’t been raised in this crazy family. She didn’t know what she had in mind yet, but she knew she needed some kind of change, she couldn’t keep living her life the way it was.


	71. Part 3, Chapter 7

**May, 2012**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8vHqU9giRY) walked unsteadily through the crowd on the boardwalk, a styrofoam cup of donkey punch in his hand. It was the night of Cinco de Cuatro, a holiday on the fourth of May that his mother had invented back in the eighties when Rosa had taken the day off on Cinco de Mayo, intended to deplete the party supplies the Cinco de Mayo celebrants were relying upon.

Michael had had a rough six years. It had started out promisingly, when he’d left his family, traded his shares of the Bluth Company to Lucille Austero, started his own housing company, and finally finished the development of Sudden Valley. However, things had taken a turn when the housing market collapsed, forcing him to move into his son’s dorm room at UC Irvine and borrow $700,000 from Lucille 2. Now he’d been mistakenly voted out of George Michael’s dorm in a pack-first-no-talking-after scenario, Lucille 2 was demanding that he repay the money he’d borrowed from her, and he was about to do something desperate to get an extension.

He took one last drink of his donkey punch and threw it away, then fixed his hair and climbed up the stairs of the staircar, which now belonged to Lucille 2.

“Happy Cuatro, happy Cuatro!” she was saying from the top of the staircar. She was running for congress and trying hard to win over the Hispanic community. “Let’s throw some more taco shells,” she said to Sally Sitwell, who was working as her campaign manager. “Olé!”

“Sally, can I—I need to talk to Lucille 2, please,” Michael said. Lucille 2 turned around.

“It’s okay, Sally,” she said. “I’ll talk to Michael.”

“I’ll be downstairs,” Sally said. “Kicking myself for not marrying you so many years ago,” she said to Michael. Michael laughed sadly. He and Sally had had a brief relationship a while back.

“Michael, do you have something for me?” Lucille 2 said.

“Does bad news count?” Michael joked.

“There’s that Bluth wit. Oh, I love your family.”

She certainly had demonstrated that with many of the men in the family, even having fallen for a few, although some of that was the vertigo she suffered from. But she had gotten intimate with Buster and Gob and flirted with Michael on several occasions, which made him hopeful that his plan would work.

“I need the money I lent you,” said Lucille 2. “I am in the middle of a campaign, I am desperate for the ad money.”

“You’re going to get it. I just need an extension.”

“Why don’t you go to your family?”

“I don’t need them,” he said automatically. He took a deep breath. “What I need is you.”

Lucille 2 looked at him confusedly. “What are you suggesting?”

Michael hesitated. He had to get it over with, it was the only option left. He tried to lean in but kept tilting to the side instead, unable to bring himself to do it. This apparently made Lucille 2 dizzy and she promptly fell over.

“No, no!” Michael said, trying to catch her, but she fell onto the stairs, hitting her head on the rail in the process. “Oh, god,” Michael said, rushing over to help her. This was not going according to plan. “Are you okay?” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “Yes, yes, my head.”

Michael saw that her forehead was bleeding. “Oh, god, I’m sorry,” he said, helping her to her feet.

“Here, I have some band-aids,” she said, getting them out of her purse. “I always keep them handy in case this happens,” she said, putting her hand to her head. “Could you…?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Michael said, taking the band-aids from her and helping her put one on her forehead. “Okay, that was nasty.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet?” she said. Michael chuckled, still feeling sick about what he was about to do. “Thank you,” she said.

“Okay,” Michael said, trying to psych himself up again. He leaned in again with difficulty. She tilted her head to the side ominously. “Don’t tilt your head! Okay?” Michael said quickly, reaching out and holding her head still. He leaned in again to kiss her.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“I’m gonna have sex with you,” he said. “For money.”

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlXsgUfLU2g) hurried through the crowd of Cinco de Cuatro celebrants on the boardwalk, trying to find Herbert Love, a Republican candidate for congress who she’d been in a secret relationship with for the last month. She’d just learned that her activist boyfriend Marky Bark was planning to blow up Herbert’s boat during the Festival of Lights to embarrass him and his campaign and she was trying to find him to warn him.

She felt more than a little guilty about betraying Marky to save Herbert. She wanted to choose Marky. He was the kind of down-to-earth activist she’d always told herself she was looking for, while Herbert stood for everything she was against (not to mention the fact that he was married). She wished she could be content to run away with Marky and eschew the comforts of her privileged life and devote the rest of it to enacting social change, but as hard she tried she couldn’t convince herself that it was what she wanted. She couldn’t help it, she loved the way Herbert made her feel. She hadn’t been with someone who made her feel so special and interesting and beautiful since Paul, and she couldn’t bring herself to let it go again.

She suddenly spotted him in the crowd with his aide, David.

“Herbert!” she called out, running over to him, which was difficult in her tight dress and heels. She was also wearing a red wig as part of her disguise as ‘Cindy Featherbottom.’ She hadn’t intended to use a false identity with him, but she’d been in disguise when she’d met him, as she’d been trying to sabotage his campaign speech at the time, and she hadn’t found the right opportunity yet to tell him she wasn’t who she’d said she was. She caught up with him and grabbed his arm. He turned around.

“Hi,” she said. “Um, listen, I’m here undercover because I have some inside information that you really need to know about.”

“Well, I’ve got some undercover information for you, too,” he said. “I cannot be under the covers with you anymore.”

Lindsay did a double take. That hadn’t been what she’d expected to hear.

“It’s over between us,” he said. “My wife found out and I told her that there was nothing emotional, but that you were just a prostitute.”

“I’m not a prostitute!” Lindsay said indignantly.

“Oh, I know, I know,” he said quickly. “The point is, we are through.” He handed her a wad of cash. “Here’s a little severance package for servicing my package.”

Lindsay tried to throw the money in his face, but she didn’t have the muscle memory for it. He looked at David in confusion as Lindsay tried unsuccessfully to let go of the money.

“She’s keeping it,” David said.

“Oh, good!” Herbert said happily. “And don’t forget to vote!” he added to Lindsay as he walked away.

“This isn’t over!” Lindsay called furiously after him. “I’m not some taco you can throw into the bay!” She continued to try to the throw the money. “Why can’t I do this?” she said to herself in frustration. Then she saw Maeby walking by.

“Oh, Maeby!” she said, surprised to see her.

“Hey,” Maeby said, stopping.

“Oh, hey, I need to apologize to you,” Lindsay said. She’d recently found a check Lucille had written for Maeby to get plastic surgery, and she’d given it to George Sr. “That check you’ve been looking for… I had it.”

“Had?” Maeby repeated.

Lindsay held out the money Herbert Love had given her. “It’s not everything, but here’s some money,” she said. Maeby smiled and tried to take it, but Lindsay still couldn’t quite let go.

“Mom,” Maeby said. Lindsay finally managed to open her fingers enough to let Maeby take the money from her. She sighed.

“It’s dirty money anyway,” she said. “Love gave it to me.”

“He gave you money directly?” Maeby said incredulously.

“If you can believe that. Anyway, this is your money now, and if you  _choose_  to do facial reconstruction… I mean, the nose, right?” she said, and walked away.

As she wandered through the crowd she thought again about Herbert Love. Had he really thought she was a prostitute this whole time? What had she done to make him think that? She’d thought he really cared about her, he’d been so nice to her, always complimenting her and buying her jewelry. Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away angrily. She didn’t want to cry about him, she shouldn’t have even been with him in the first place. She had to do something to get back at him, to show him he couldn’t treat her like this. She started heading to the dock. It looked like she would be helping Marky after all.

She reached the dock and stopped when she saw Marky below, climbing into a rowboat with a suitcase that presumably contained the bomb to blow up Herbert’s boat. Her heart sank. She knew she should go with him, she’d just suffered the consequences of following her heart instead of her head, and she had to get back at Herbert somehow. But she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t go to Mexico to be with Marky and his awful mother. She turned away, not sure where she was going now. Then she ran into her own awful mother.

“Mom!” she said in surprise. She’d thought she was still in prison for trying to steal the  _Queen Mary_. “What are you doing here?”

“Lindsay, I thought you were a hooker!” Lucille laughed. “Again!”

“It’s a wig. No one recognizes me in it.”

“Oh, I recognized you. Let me rephrase that more kindly. I hear you’re hooking now, with Herbert Love.”

“It’s called ‘hooking up,’” Lindsay said, annoyed.

“Oh,” Lucille said, clearly still mocking her.

“And yeah, I got a little sidetracked, but, I know who I am now,” Lindsay said. “I’m back to being severely liberal.”

“Well, like I said, the one time you were nice enough to visit me, you are who you are. A blonde, waspy Orange County princess who doesn’t care about anything but herself, and that’s okay.”

“Ah, sarcasm,” Lindsay said. Jesus, her mother was the last person she’d wanted to see right now.

“No,” Lucille said. “I’m a Bluth, and so are you.”

“You really know how to twist the knife,” she said. “But you are right about one thing. I don’t need this anymore.”

She took off her wig and threw it in a nearby trash can, then walked away. She’d just gotten an idea—she would go work for Lucille 2’s campaign. Lucille 2 had been something like a mother to her, except kind and loving and willing to let her eat. She’d invited Lindsay to work for her campaign a few months ago, but Lindsay had been busy at the time changing the world with Marky. But now she had the perfect opportunity to get back at her mother  _and_ Herbert Love by working for their mutual rival.

She saw Lucille 2 in the crowd and went over to her.

“Lucille 2!” she said. “I’ve got great news. I’m finally available to become your campaign manager!”

“Oh, that’s lovely, dear!” Lucille 2 said. “But I’ve found someone more qualified than you.”

Lindsay looked over and saw her longtime rival, Sally Sitwell.

“Hello, Lindsay,” she said.

“Sally,” Lindsay said with a grimace. Sally gave her an air kiss.

“It’s been awhile,” she said.

“Mm,” Lindsay said, and turned back to Lucille 2. “How is she more qualified than me?” she said under her breath.

“She has integrity! And look at this hair!” Lucille 2 said, touching Sally’s long blonde hair. “Look at this beautiful long hair!”

Lindsay felt the back of her head. She’d cut her hair short a year earlier.

“I made you a banner,” she said, feeling betrayed. “Look, I can really help this campaign!”

“You already have,” Lucille 2 said. “More than you know. Now, give her a little show-and-tell,” she said to Sally, and walked away.

“Show-and-tell?” Lindsay repeated, confused.

“Oh, she just means these photos of Herbert Love with a mystery redhead he’s cheating on his wife with,” she said, handing Lindsay some rather graphic photos of her with Herbert Love.

“Who took these?” Lindsay said, mortified.

“The first two were taken by the security camera in the Albertson’s parking lot, and the third was left in the photo booth at the Ealing Club.”

“God, that was a photo booth?”

“Mm hm.”

“No one can know about this,” Lindsay said desperately.

“Oh, I’m afraid they’re going to. Lucille has copies, she wants to go viral with this. Herbert Love with his hooker? She’ll win for sure.”

“I can’t let her do that.”

“I don’t think you can stop her,” Sally said sinisterly. She suddenly gave her a cheerful smile. “Anyway, it was so great running into you again! Mwah!” she said, giving her another air kiss.

Lindsay stood there as Sally walked away, horrified. She’d already felt like this night couldn’t get any worse, and now the world would view her as Love’s prostitute.

“Herbert Love? Herbert Love?”

Lindsay looked over and saw Herbert’s aide walking through the crowd, apparently looking for him.

“David!” she called out to him.

“Who are you?” he asked, apparently not recognizing her without the wig.

“I’m Cindy Featherbottom!”

“I’ve been looking for you!” he said. “Love’s gone missing, and I’ve got to find someone to jump onto that stage and to show everyone here that we are the party that has complete con—con—complete con—con—con—con—complete con—”

“—trol?” Lindsay said.

“Giant!” he snapped back. “—trol!”

Lindsay suddenly realized she’d stumbled upon an opportunity to put a spin on the looming photos scandal.

“I’ll do it!” she said.

“Oh my god, thank you, thank you! And I’m so sorry about that giant crack earlier. Okay, raise the mics, everybody! New speaker!”

Lindsay walked uncertainly up onto the stage. Like many before her she was about to accuse Herbert Love of sexual harassment. Better to let everyone think she was a victim than a prostitute. She went over to the microphone.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” she said nervously. The crowd quieted down a little. “I am Herbert Love’s ‘key advisor,’” she said with air quotes. Everyone cheered, apparently not picking up on the sarcasm. “Uh, thank you, but, uh…” she said, caught off guard. “Listen, I have a few things I’d like to tell you about Herbert Love. Love wants to put up a wall,” she said, thinking she’d need to turn his supporters against him before she accused him of sexual harassment. But this seemed to have the opposite effect, as everyone cheered again. “No, no, no,” she said. “I mean, not—not just any wall. A wall to keep out the Mexicans!” The crowd cheered even louder. “Oh, wow,” she laughed nervously. “What a great crowd, uh… But no, you don’t understand. He wants to separate, uh…”

A man suddenly jumped up onto the stage.

“Oh!” she said in surprise, then screamed as he ripped off her necklace.

 _“Viva Mongolia!”_  he yelled, holding her necklace high in the air, then jumped off the stage.

“That’s my necklace!” Lindsay said. “What, what’s happening, what’s—” People started screaming as a group of men turned over carts and snapped guitars in two. “What—what’s going on?”

“The marauders, lady, a bunch of young Mexicans are taking over Cinco de Cuatro!” a woman in the crowd said to her. “They don’t find it funny anymore!”

“But that was my necklace,” Lindsay said, upset. Herbert Love had given her that necklace. “I mean, god,” she said, feeling her neck where the necklace had been. “They don’t belong here, we belong here,” she muttered angrily.

The crowd erupted in cheers. She looked at them, surprised.

“I mean, someone should put up a wall,” she ventured. They cheered even louder. “Yeah!” she said, nodding, happy to have some validation. “We should put up a wall! Put up this wall!”

The cheering grew louder. She looked out at them, surprised to find herself in this situation but intoxicated by the energy of the crowd and all the admiration directed towards her. She started to chant.

“Put. Up. This. Wall,” she said dramatically. The crowd joined in.

_“Put! Up! This! Wall! Put! Up! This! Wall! Put! Up! This! Wall!”_

“My name is Lindsay Bluth!” she shouted, exhilarated. “And this is who I am!”

She realized cameras were flashing and started to pose for the pictures, waving and pointing to people in the crowd like she’d seen politicians do on TV.

“She’s a game changer!” she heard David saying. She grinned at the praise.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7gATYcsdjI) stood by the railing of the boardwalk, looking out at the dark water below, another cup of donkey punch in his hand. Lucille 2 had not accepted his offer, to put it mildly. Part of him was relieved of course, but he still owed her $700,000 and he was out of ideas for how to get it. And he still had to live with the shame of having attempted to prostitute himself.

How had things gotten so bad? He’d never thought his life would turn out like this. He thought back to when he was in college, how bright his future had looked. He’d been the success story of the family, the one at the elite school who would one day take over the company from his father, the only one of his siblings whose life wasn’t falling apart. True, he’d accidentally gotten his girlfriend pregnant, but they’d pulled it off against the odds, they’d both graduated and had successful careers and provided a good home for their son.

A lump rose in his throat as he thought about Tracey. God, if Tracey could see him now. She would be horrified, not only by what he’d just tried to do, but also by the fact that he was sleeping with their son’s girlfriend. But he hadn’t known George Michael was the other guy until a few days ago, he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. He should have ended things with Rebel as soon as he’d found out, though. He still should end things, George Michael didn’t know yet, but he couldn’t do it. It was because she reminded him of Tracey. For the last ten years, he’d been trying desperately to find someone to marry, but every relationship just turned into a bigger disaster than the last. He just wanted a family again, he wanted to get back the life he’d had, and when he’d met a beautiful, red-haired woman just after the tenth anniversary of Tracey’s death it had seemed like fate. George Michael was only twenty-one, he’d find someone else, but she was Michael’s only chance.

But Rebel didn’t even care about him like he cared about her. She’d made it clear from the beginning that all she was interested in was a casual relationship. Why couldn’t he find someone who would love him? He did all the right things, but it was never enough. He wanted so much to undo all of this, to go back in time, back to when everything had been going so right for him and it had seemed like it would only ever get better.

“Michael?”

Michael turned around and saw Lindsay walking towards him from out of the crowd.

“Oh,” he said, surprised to see her. “Hi, Lindsay.”

“Oh my god, what happened?” she said.

“Wha—Oh yeah,” he said, realizing she was talking about the black eye he’d gotten from a recent fight with Gob in a ball pit and the fresh bruises from when Lucille 2 had slapped him just now. “It’s just, uh… Terrible week.”

“Are you okay?” she said, glancing at the cup in his hand. He realized with embarrassment that he’d been slurring his words a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, struggling to speak more clearly. She didn’t look convinced.

“What happened?” she asked.

“It’s a long story. I’m okay,” he said. “I just, uh, I owe Lucille 2 money,” he added. He didn’t know what made him say it. It was just that there was something comforting about unexpectedly seeing someone so familiar, and he felt a strange urge to tell her everything. Not that they’d been all that close lately. He’d only spoken to her a handful of times since they’d stopped living together six years ago.

“You owe her money?” Lindsay said.

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

“Seven hundred thousand dollars,” he said weakly. Lindsay’s eyes widened.

“Wh—Why, how did you end up owing her so much?”

“I just, I borrowed it from her to finish Sudden Valley, and then the housing market collapsed and I couldn’t build a road to it, it’s just, it’s a disaster,” he said, getting worked up again. Lindsay looked at him with a mixture of surprise and pity. It wasn’t very comforting.

“How did you get those bruises?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing, she just, she slapped me, and she was wearing these heavy rings…”

“She slapped you?”

“Yeah, I, uh… I tried to…to do something stupid, I deserved it.”

“What did you do?” she said, clearly confused.

He laughed humorlessly. “Not something I want to tell you about.”

She raised her eyebrows. He realized she was probably trying to guess what he’d done now and he cursed himself for bringing it up. The truth was probably worse than most of the things she was thinking, but he felt like he should explain himself now. “Ugh, okay, I’ll tell you,” he sighed. “Just, let’s go somewhere else.”

 

* * *

 

[“Okay,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8YTYO5In7s) I don’t think there’s anyone here,” Lindsay said as she and Michael walked along the edge of the boardwalk. They’d finally gotten away from the crowds and were near the banana stand, which was now operated by the Austero Bluth Company. “So what did you do?” Lindsay asked, sitting down on a bench.

“Ugh,” Michael sighed, still not sure he wanted to tell her, but he’d brought her all the way over here. “Okay, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” she said impatiently.

“And you gotta understand, I didn’t have any other option.”

“Jesus, what did you do?” she laughed, sounding a little nervous. He sighed.

“I told her…that…that I’d have sex with her if she gave me an extension on the loan.”

Lindsay’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t actually do it,” he said quickly, recoiling at her reaction.

“Oh my god,” she said, with a mixture of pity and revulsion.

“I didn’t have any other choice,” Michael said desperately, hating seeing her look at him like that. Why had he thought it was a good idea to tell her about this?

“Wow,” she said, seemingly more to herself than to him.

“Come on, don’t look like that,” Michael pleaded. It wasn’t like Lindsay had never done anything humiliating like this. “I shouldn’t have told you, I don’t know why I did.”

“No, no, I’m just… I’m just surprised.”

“Okay,” he said in annoyance, considering leaving right then.

“Hey, you didn’t actually do it, you just offered,” she said. It surprised him. He couldn’t remember Lindsay ever trying to comfort him about anything. Maybe because he’d never looked so pathetic. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it will all work out,” she said with a reassuring smile, though there was still a condescending kind of pity in her voice. He laughed darkly, still wishing he hadn’t told her, but he appreciated that she was at least trying to make him feel better.

“For what it’s worth, Lucille 2 has something embarrassing on me too,” she said after a pause.

“Really?” he said, surprised.

“Yeah, it’s really bad.”

“What is it?”

“Well, you know how I’ve been seeing Herbert Love.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, remembering their disastrous accidental double date the previous night.

“Well, it turns out Lucille 2 has photos of me with him and she wants to leak them to the press to hurt his campaign.

“Hm,” Michael said, surprised that Lindsay was also being blackmailed by Lucille 2. “Well, that’s not that bad, you’re free to date him,” he said, though he could understand why Love wouldn’t want his relationship with Lindsay public.

“Well, he  _is_  married,” she mumbled.

Michael raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t known that.

“And he thinks I’m a prostitute,” she added.

“What?”

“Well, I didn’t know he thought that until just now! I thought he really liked me, I had no idea he thought that until he paid me.”

“He  _paid_  you?”

“Well, don’t look at me like that!” she said angrily. “I didn’t take it, I threw the money in his face. And you’re the one who actually tried to prostitute yourself!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly.

“I only told you to make you feel better, you have no right to judge me,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he said, though he knew she was right that he had no moral high ground here. She hesitated, then sighed.

“It’s okay,” she said, laughing dryly. She looked out at the dark water, the cold wind pulling little strands of her hair out of place. He looked at her, thinking about how little he’d seen her over the last few years. He hadn’t gotten used to her short hair yet, or the way her latest round of plastic surgery drew her skin tight across her face. Still, there was a kind of luminous beauty about her tonight that he couldn’t explain. She turned to him.

“Do you think we would have been different if we’d been raised in a different family?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Like…like maybe if Mom and Dad hadn’t screwed us up so much we wouldn’t always be getting into situations like this.”

He thought it over. “Yeah, probably,” he agreed. He wondered if this had something to do with Lindsay finding out she was adopted.

“Don’t tell anyone about the thing with Herbert,” she said suddenly. “I mean, I guess everyone will know soon anyway, but in case I can change her mind.”

“Yeah, I won’t.”

“Thanks,” she said with a grim smile. “I won’t tell anyone about your thing either.”

He laughed. “Thanks.”

She turned away and looked out at the water again, the pale white light of the streetlights above them shining on her face. He was suddenly struck by an image of her sitting next to him on that same bench more than twenty years ago, when they’d come here after mailing in her college applications and she’d kissed his cheek and he’d pushed her away. She turned to him now and saw that he was looking at her.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing,” he said, turning away, and they lapsed into silence again.

He looked down at her hand resting on the bench, thinking about how in love with him she’d been at the time, and how he’d felt about her. So much had changed since then but she was still the same, she’d never changed all that much. He wondered if she still felt that way about him. She probably did, just a few years ago she’d wanted to marry him. He felt a sudden urge to kiss her, just to see how she would react. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind. They may not be technically related but she was still his sister, and it would complicate their relationship. They’d been through all this before and it had been years before things had returned to normal.

He thought again about that last year before he’d gone to college, when things had gotten out of control. She’d really loved him then. He remembered how she used to look at him, like he was the only good thing left in the world. And he couldn’t help it, he’d always been attracted to her, and she was so beautiful and helpless and in love with him, anyone would have gotten carried away. He really could kiss her now, it wasn’t like when they were teenagers, when they’d thought they were twins. He wouldn’t do anything more than that, he just wanted to kiss her, to feel her melt in his arms again like she used to. He needed that right now, he needed to be for her what he’d been when they were teenagers, and before he could change his mind he reached out and turned her face to him and kissed her.

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2v6PS6m0Wk) jerked her head back in surprise, but he went with her, kissing her longingly, desperately. She sat there frozen as he kissed her, making him panic. She was going to kiss him back, wasn’t she, or had he waited too long? But then she hesitantly parted her lips and kissed him too. He caressed her face, hating himself as he did but loving the tension he could feel in her body and the softness of her luminous skin. She tentatively touched his arm, growing a little bolder with her kisses. He returned them, moving his hand to her back and then to her waist. It was okay, they weren’t related by blood and no one would ever know anyway.

He suddenly realized he was sitting on the boardwalk kissing his sister in plain sight. He pulled away, making her gasp. He looked around wildly. He saw with relief that they were still the only ones here.

“We should, uh, we should go somewhere else, someone might see,” he stammered, feeling like someone else was saying the words for him. Lindsay stared back at him, her eyes wide with shock.

“Uh, yeah,” she said dazedly. She looked around them. “Uh, maybe the banana stand?”

Michael looked over at the banana stand. He thought he still had the key in his wallet. “Yeah,” he said, feeling pretty dazed himself. “Yeah, okay.”

He got up and walked over to the banana stand, feeling like he was in a dream. He fumbled for the key in his wallet as he walked. Lindsay got up and followed him. He found his key and opened the door. He could feel Lindsay’s presence next to him but he didn’t dare look at her, starting to panic again. What was he doing here, how had he gotten into this situation? But before he could say anything Lindsay was kissing him again, wrapping those lovely arms around him and pulling him into the banana stand, and all his doubts slipped away. He went with her, surprised by the sudden ferocity with which she kissed him. He closed the door behind them, plunging them into darkness.

They stumbled across the banana stand and hit the counter, knocking over a jar of sprinkles so that they spilled out across the floor. They ignored it, kissing with abandon now. He pulled her graceful body close to him, feeling like he couldn’t get enough of her. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he’d never forgive himself for this, but he was so tired of being the moral one when it came to the two of them, rejecting her over and over again when he wanted her like nothing else. He’d intended to prostitute himself to Lucille 2 tonight anyway, and this didn’t feel like too much of a leap from that, morally speaking. Everything about her drew him to her, even the smell of her, her perfume smelled like the perfume she’d worn as a teenager. He ran his hand down her body and caressed her bare thigh, he’d always loved her legs. She moaned and reached down and pulled his hand up under her dress.

He took a deep breath. This had gone way too far, hadn’t he told himself all he would do was kiss her? But he couldn’t leave now, he was so caught up in the electricity between them, he couldn’t imagine breaking away from it. He couldn’t see her in the dark but he could feel her holding her breath. He slowly moved his hand in between her legs, hearing her exhale softly as he did. He ran his finger over her slit through the lacy fabric of her panties, making her whimper. He started working his finger into her folds. He could feel the liquid seeping through the fabric, driving him crazy. Without really making a conscious decision he pulled his hand out from between her legs and slipped it into her panties, running his fingers through her warm wetness and over her clit. She sucked in a breath. He vaguely noticed the lace rubbing uncomfortably against his wet fingers and pulled them off so that they fell to the floor around her feet. He moved the hand on her waist to her back and grabbed her thigh with the other and lifted her up onto the counter so that she was sitting facing him, then returned to fingering her, breathing in her sweet seawater scent.

“Fuck,” he whispered, feeling like he couldn’t stand it anymore. No, he couldn’t do anything more than this, this would have to be enough. He inserted his finger into her, mesmerized by the tightness around his finger. He pumped it into her, gently circling her clit with his thumb. He could tell she was trying not to let on how crazy this was making her but every now and then a moan would escape from her lips. He didn’t know why she was holding back, there was really no point in hiding their feelings for each other anymore. He wished she wouldn’t, he’d waited his whole life to be this close to her. He was still vaguely aware that he should be filled with shame right now, but none of it seemed to matter at the moment. They’d always been different from other siblings. This didn’t feel wrong, it felt more natural than anything, the smell of her and the sound her sighs filling his head.

She reached down and unbuckled his belt with shaky hands. His breath caught in his throat as she pulled it off and started unbuttoning his pants. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t, but he really had to at this point, there was no way he could stop now. It was going to happen sometime, he’d always known there was something inevitable about them. He took out his wallet and found the condom he’d intended to use with Lucille 2, thinking with dark humor that in a way this night had turned out much better than he’d expected. He took off his boxers and gave himself a few quick strokes, trying not to moan with relief as he did. He rolled on the condom, somewhat uncomfortably aware of Lindsay sitting in front of him. His eyes had adjusted enough now that he could see her there, though he still couldn’t make out her expression. She wrapped her beautiful long legs around him and pulled him towards her and wrapped her arms around his neck. He pushed against her wet opening, still having trouble grasping that he was really doing this after all these years and knowing he would regret it for the rest of his life, but he really didn’t care anymore. All he could think of was the feeling of her arms around him and the smooth skin of her bare thigh under his hand and her sharp intake of breath as he entered her.

He moaned with relief as he pushed inside her. Oh god, yes, this was what he needed, why had he waited so long? He moved his hand to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair as he began to thrust in and out of her. She was gripping his shoulders tightly now, her legs still wrapped around him. He closed his eyes, her tightness around him filling him with waves of pleasure. She groaned, pulling him closer and pushing her hips against his to get more of him inside her.

“Michael,” she sighed, apparently not trying to hide how she felt anymore.

“Linds,” he breathed back, loving the emotion in her voice, hearing how much she still needed him after all these years. He didn’t care what anyone thought anymore, this didn’t feel wrong, it never had. It was meant to be like this, just the two of them in their own separate world, the sheer desire between them like electricity.

His thrusts became faster and less coordinated and he grunted with effort as he struggled to hold back. Thankfully her cries were getting faster and more urgent now because he didn’t think he could take it anymore. She gripped his arm painfully and he felt her clamp tight around him as she came. He groaned and came inside her, his hand still on the back of her head and his fingers tangled in her hair. He pulled out of her and they fell limply against each other. They stood there wordlessly with their foreheads resting against each other for a long time, breathing heavily together as the warm after-effects swirled around his head. She laughed softly.

 _“Yes,”_  they sighed in unison.

Michael looked up at her. He was close enough now that he could see her looking searchingly up at him. He pulled away and opened his mouth to say something, then realized he had no idea what to say. He looked away and stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable. He quickly threw away the condom and pulled his pants back on, still looking away from her.

He needed to say something, give her some kind of explanation, but he didn’t know himself how he’d ended up here. He tried to fight the panic that was building up in him again. He’d known what he was doing, he’d known the whole time that he would regret it and he’d decided he didn’t care, but he was just starting to realize that this would change things forever. He’d never gone all the way with her, all they’d ever done was kiss, and even that had done irreparable harm to their relationship. And what if she wanted more than this, for god’s sake, what would he say to her, how could he possibly explain this? He needed to get out of here, he couldn’t spend another second in this dark, cramped banana stand with the smell of sex and her sitting there right in front of him.

He absentmindedly wiped the hand he’d used to finger her on his pants, then realized his sleeve was covered in chocolate sauce. He must have knocked the lid off the tub at some point without noticing. His heart started beating quickly. What if someone saw and knew he’d been in the banana stand and put it together? He remembered there was a box of yellow banana stand shirts and bent down and started feeling around the floor for the box.

“What are you doing?” Lindsay said tentatively, startling him.

“Uh, I’m just—I got chocolate sauce on my arm, I’m trying to find a shirt to change into,” he said distractedly.

“Uh, okay,” she said, laughing nervously. She sounded slightly alarmed. She probably thought he’d lost his mind. He’d call her tomorrow and explain everything, but right now he needed to get out of here. He found the box and took out his phone to use as a flashlight. He blinked as he turned it on. The light of the screen was painfully bright after being in the dark for so long. He quickly looked through the shirts for one that would fit him. He heard Lindsay slide off the counter and saw her out of the corner of his eye picking her panties up off the floor and putting them back on, but he kept his eyes determinedly on the box of shirts. He found one and pulled it out, then turned off his phone, wanting the slight comfort of the darkness again. He took off his own shirt, struggling with the buttons with his shaky hands, and replaced it with the clean one. He stood up as he finished buttoning it up, then opened the door.

“You’re just leaving?” Lindsay said shrilly. Michael looked back at her helplessly, finally able to see her clearly now that the door was open.

“Uh—yeah, I’m sorry, I—sorry,” he stammered, and turned away and quickly set off down the boardwalk.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bXwtq-G42E) pulled into the driveway of the long-neglected model home in his mapping car and got out. He’d come here looking for a place to hide for the night. He took his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the contacts for Lindsay’s number. He should call her now. He’d probably scared her earlier, and he thought he’d calmed down enough now that he could explain himself without scaring her even more.

He hesitated, trying to think of what to say. How would he explain this? He’d been out of it, he’d been in some kind of emotional state after the whole mess with Lucille 2 and that was why he’d had sex with her? Even he didn’t know what had been going through his mind. He’d just missed how it used to be between them, he’d wanted her to look at him like she used to after everything that had happened to him in the last few years. God, it seemed so messed up now. Why on earth had he thought it would make things better? His life had already been a mess and he’d only made it worse.

He put his phone away. He didn’t know what to say to her yet. He’d sort everything out in the morning, the money he owed to Lucille 2, the situation with Rebel and George Michael, and this new mess he’d gotten himself into with Lindsay, but right now he needed to sleep and clear his head.

He walked up to the door, unconsciously playing the scene again in his head. Against his better judgement, he smelled his fingers to see if they still smelled like her. He’d washed his hands afterwards in a public restroom (which had blue paint all over the sink for some reason), but the scent of her still lingered, mixed with the generically sweet smell of the soap. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He opened the door and went inside. The lights were on and there were pizza boxes and Cinco de Cuatro souvenirs scattered around the house. Was someone else here? He went to the living room and washed his hands again in the sink, hoping whoever it was had left.

“Thanks for coming so late, Maria,” he heard Gob saying upstairs. He looked up and saw him walking down the stairs. “I know that you won’t be cleaning up tomorrow, and we did make quite a mess of that bedroom…” He stopped when he saw Michael. “Michael,” he said. He walked into the living room. “Michael. I didn’t expect to be seeing you again after all the…unpleasantness,” he said, referring to the fight in the ball pit they’d had when Michael had mistakenly thought it was him and not George Michael who was dating Rebel Alley.

“I-I’ve, I’ve, I’ve been out of control,” Michael said, ashamed. “Sorry. In fact, I-I just did something that I-I don’t, I don’t, I don’t know why I did it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gob asked.

“No, I do not, I’ve said too much already, you cannot help me.”

“Well, I wasn’t hoping to help, I was hoping to rub it in. Because of all the unpleasantness.”

“Got it,” Michael said.

“Oh, dammit, I meant to throw these in the chipper,” Gob muttered to himself, looking at the souvenirs on the floor. “God, I’m just not into Cuatro this year.”

Michael walked dejectedly over to the counter and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“I was the one that was wrong, not you,” he said, taking a drink. “And besides, you could not make me feel worse right now.”

“Well, I’d be willing to let you have your apology back if you give me the chance to try. I mean, I’m gonna need some specifics about the thing that you’re ashamed of. Otherwise, I’ll just be taking general potshots,” he laughed and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Bad example. If you were ashamed of being in love with a man—” Michael glanced at his hand on his shoulder. “—suddenly discovered these new feelings, something that you only allowed to happen because you thought  _he_  was gay and you were hoping to exact revenge, but then you found out he was straight, then you wanted to get even, so maybe you put a mask on someone and then tried to convince yourself that the sex you were about to have was with yourself, but it turned out to be him, and all you ended up doing was proving that your feelings were real…then I might say something like, ‘homo much?’”

“It’s not that,” Michael said, walking away.

“I said ‘bad example,’” Gob said sulkily.

“I went to go see Lucille 2 and I just—I just—I lost control, I did something that I…wish I could forget, you have got no idea how I feel.”

“Well, if you’re talking about doing something embarrassing with a woman, then no, I don’t,” Gob said. He picked up an empty pill bottle from the counter. “Hey, I’m down to my last forget-me-now,” he said to himself, referring to the roofies he sometimes took to forget things he was ashamed of. “There’s only one left. How could that possibly be? Unless… John Beard Jr.”

“I don’t need to get into it, I came here because I thought the house was empty, but I can go somewhere else, okay?” Michael said, turning to leave.

“Hey, listen, Michael, if you want, we can split this,” Gob said, offering him the last forget-me-now.

“No,” Michael said, seriously tempted but thinking he needed to live with this, and besides, he still had to call Lindsay tomorrow. “I feel like this is something I shouldn’t forget. Okay, and believe me, this is the last time I ever judge you for anything that you ever do…”

He trailed off when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He looked up and saw Tony Wonder standing there in a robe.

“Oh, shit,” Tony said, and ran back into the bedroom.

Michael turned to Gob, who looked back at him in horror.

“Is that you who you were with?” Michael said, stunned. “I knew it! I always knew that!”

“Take this, Michael, forget, forget,” Gob said frantically, trying to shove the forget-me-now into Michael’s mouth.

“No, no!” Michael said, trying to push him away, but Gob tackled him to the floor.

“Put the mask back on!” he called over his shoulder to Tony. “Forget this, Michael! Forget,  _forget_ , Michael!”

“Gob!” Michael said, trying in vain to push him away, but Gob succeeded in getting the pill down his throat.

“Forget! Now is the time to forget!”

Michael tried to cough up the pill, but he was already feeling dizzy.

“Now you’re forgetting. Now you’re forgetting.”

“Agh, god,” Michael choked.

“It’s so easy to forget…” Gob sang to him as the room began to fade. “It’s so easy to forget…”

The corners of his vision were turning black now. Was Gob stroking his hair…?

 

* * *

 

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31BOJUIMc00) sat on a bench by the street, hunching her shoulders against the cold wind coming in off the water. Most of the Cinco de Cuatro celebrants had gone home by now, but she could still hear drunken laughter and shouting in the distance.

After Michael had left her she’d called a taxi and now she was waiting for it to arrive. She hoped it would get here soon. It was cold and late and she couldn’t shake the feeling that anyone who looked closely enough would know what she’d just done. She knew there were no visible signs, but she still felt nervous whenever someone walked by.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the taxi coming down the street towards her. She stood up and walked over to meet it. The taxi parked and she got in.

“Hi, can you take me to the Four Seas?” she asked the driver. She didn’t want to go to the penthouse or model home and risk running into Michael, and she couldn’t stay with Herbert anymore. Not that she’d want to stay with him tonight anyway. She didn’t want to see or talk to anyone, she just wanted to get to a shower and an empty bed as quickly as possible.

“Sure,” the driver said, and started driving. “Celebrating Cinco de Cuatro?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” she said distractedly.

“I keep thinking the city’s going to shut it down someday, the bay is filled with nacho cheese for a month afterwards, but they keep doing it every year.”

“Mm,” Lindsay agreed shortly without looking away from the window, hoping he would stop talking to her. He seemed to get the hint and didn’t say anything more.

Lindsay watched the familiar town pass by through the window, trying to make sense of her tangled mess of feelings. He hadn’t shown any concrete sign that he still felt that way about her since they were eighteen, they’d barely even  _seen_  each other over the last six years. And then he’d just left her there without any kind of explanation. Standing there alone in the banana stand confused and embarrassed, having to clean up any sign that they’d been there by herself. There were so many emotions swirling around her head that she didn’t know what to feel. The only one that was making and kind of sense right now was anger, for leaving her like that and for making her feel so confused. She should be celebrating what looked like the beginning of a promising career in politics right now, but all she could think about was Michael. She remembered getting off Herbert Love’s campaign boat. She’d been so electrified that she hadn’t wanted to go home yet, so she’d decided to just wander along the boardwalk for a while to clear her head, and that was when she’d run into Michael. She wished she’d just gone straight home.

But it didn’t make any  _sense_  to feel that way, she’d wanted this for almost thirty years. Did she still want it? She hadn’t thought about him that way since she’d found out she was adopted and he’d rejected her for what she’d promised herself was the last time. She thought back to how she’d felt in the moment. That had been a flood of conflicting emotions too. For most of it she was just so shocked and disoriented that she didn’t know what she wanted, she’d just been propelled by a vague sense that this was what she’d wanted so desperately all those years ago and that she couldn’t let him run out on her on her again. She had felt some shame about halfway through when she’d realized how easily she’d melted for him at a moment’s notice, and she’d tried to suppress her reactions as much as she could. She didn’t know what the point of it was, as she was still letting him touch her like that regardless. It had just hurt her pride to realize how little it had taken for her to fall for him again, after promising herself so many times that she was done with that.

But then she’d seen how entranced he was by her and it felt something like when they were teenagers, and she didn’t know anymore why she was trying to put up walls between them. So much had happened between them in the last thirty years but he was still the person who knew her better than anyone else, the only person she’d ever really loved. For a second she’d forgotten that in the morning he would probably be consumed with guilt and begging her not to tell anyone.

But then he’d just left her there, gone into that same panicked state he always did when he let himself show any kind of non-platonic feelings for her, and she’d remembered why she hated him so much. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered how she’d felt when she’d realized it was happening all over again, watching him run out on her just like the night before he’d left for college. She blinked them away angrily. For god’s sake, why was she crying?

At least it had actually happened this time, it wasn’t like when they were teenagers and he’d left before they’d even started. It was just so strange that it was happening  _now_. Why couldn’t it have been sooner? If this had happened twenty years ago she would have been ecstatic. Now all she felt was confusion. She hadn’t even known he still felt that way about her. She’d thought he did, she’d wanted to believe that he did, but part of her had worried that his attraction to her had faded as she got older. But no, he was clearly still very much attracted to her. Maybe he had been this whole time, maybe it had never faded since they were teenagers.

She cursed herself as she realized how happy she was about that. But she couldn’t help it, it was just so nice to know. All those times she’d thought maybe she was crazy, that maybe his feelings for her really had dried up when he’d met Tracey and she was just too pathetic to admit it to herself. But the whole time he felt the same way, he was still just as crazy about her as ever. She thought about the way he’d looked when he kissed her, how he’d held her with an almost religious devotion. She’d never felt so needed. Maybe that was why she finally came. She’d laughed out loud afterwards, it had seemed like such a cruel joke, that all this time the solution was having sex with Michael.

She didn’t know what was going to happen now. What would he even say to her in the morning? He had to talk to her about it some time, he couldn’t avoid her forever. She didn’t know what any of it meant. Had it just been a one-time thing, or would he want more than this? Of course he wouldn’t, he’d been drunk and in some weird emotional state after what had happened with Lucille 2. There was no way he would ever want to be in some kind of relationship with her. No, he would beat himself up about it, talk about how wrong and disgusting it was, and ask her not to tell anyone. She didn’t know if she could stand to go through all that again. God, why did this have to happen tonight? She’d felt so sure of herself when she was giving that speech, for once in her life she’d felt like she knew who she was and what she wanted, and then he’d had to come along and send her spiraling all over again.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hT4iWuQZeeM) sleepily opened his eyes, his head aching. He realized confusedly that he was lying on the floor of the model home and morning sunlight was coming in through the window. How had he gotten here?

He sat up, wracking his brain for some memory of the previous night, but he couldn’t remember anything. Maybe he’d gotten really drunk and blacked out? He couldn’t remember ever blacking out this badly, though, and there was no one else there. He might have just gotten drunk by himself. He thought he remembered feeling upset about something, but he couldn’t remember what.

He turned on the TV, thinking he could at least turn to the weather channel and figure out what day it was.

“Seven hundred thousand,” Father Marsala was saying on  _And As It Is Such, So Also As Such Is It Unto You_. Michael looked up, feeling a pit of dread in his stomach as he remembered the amount of money he owed to Lucille 2. “Think about it, that is a very big number. Seven hundred thousand abortions every year.”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut. That must have been why he’d gotten drunk. He remembered now, his plan to repay the loan. God, it was so humiliating, but he didn’t see any other way. Well, might as well get it over with now, while he was still disoriented enough that the shame didn’t feel quite so acute. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. It went to voicemail.

 _“Vote for Lucille!”_  Lucille 2 said on the answering machine.

“Hey, Lucille 2,” Michael said, trying to get over his revulsion enough to sound seductive. “I was hoping that we could get together and…talk about how I can repay you that loan.”

He shuddered and hung up. Then, with nothing left to lose, he called Rebel.

“Hello?” he heard her say.

“Rebel. Yeah, Michael. I need to come over,” he said bluntly. “I’m—I don’t want to act like it doesn’t matter to me anymore, ‘cause it does.”

“Well, there’s somebody here right now,” she said, laughing nervously.

“I don’t care. The thing with the other guy, it’s…you know, that’s over so we don’t—we don’t ever have to talk about that ever again, it’s going away,” he said. It might work out. George Michael had said he was going to end things with her, and there was a slim chance he wouldn’t be upset that Michael was dating her as long as he didn’t know that Michael had known he was the other guy.

“Okay, well, you can come over later, okay?” Rebel said. “Goodbye.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Michael said, then realized she’d already hung up.

He groaned and lay back down on the floor, hating himself more than ever. Well, two problems were in the process of being taken care of. Now he just needed to figure out what had happened last night.


	72. Part 3, Chapter 8

**May, 2012**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzzWKzcwEhw) walked down the hospital corridor to the elevator. She’d just visited Herbert Love, who had been found in a coma two nights ago on Cinco. The doctors couldn’t say any more about what had caused it other than that it appeared that he had been punched, though how a human could knock him into a coma with a single blow they couldn’t explain. They also didn’t know when he would come out of it, and his campaign manager had asked Lindsay to run in his place.

She was thrilled—she still felt some lingering excitement whenever she remembered being up in front of that adoring crowd, despite everything that happened afterwards, and she wanted to get another taste of it. And she loved the idea of being a congresswoman. She already had a plan that would make her famous. She’d run as a Republican, which she had to do since she was running in Herbert’s place. She would pick up the votes of all the wealthy citizens of Orange County, along with their bankers and tax attorneys, who loved Herbert’s high-low plan. Then when she was in office she’d pull the rug out from under them and use her new power to enact the social change she’d been fighting for her whole life. That would show everyone, her friends and enemies from high school, all the men who had rejected her over the years, and of course her so-called family. She’d show them all she wasn’t some vapid, lazy Orange County princess like they thought.

In spite of herself she took her phone out of her purse to check if Michael had called her. Still nothing. She clenched her teeth. It had been two fucking days and she hadn’t heard anything from him. She was trying not to let it get to her, but she couldn’t help it, it hurt. She knew he was probably freaked out about this and drowning in regret right now, but he still had to call her. She was his sister, he owed her an explanation, and she couldn’t help but be reminded of waiting by the phone the month after he’d left for college. She’d almost called him so many times now, but she couldn’t handle the thought of him thinking she was desperately in love with him again. She would show him it meant nothing to her, she would wait months if she had to, he couldn’t avoid her forever.

She cursed herself. Why was she thinking about Michael right now? She’d just decided to run for congress, that should be where her focus was. Yes, she’d show him she had her life together while his was falling apart, she’d show him that night meant nothing to her.

 

* * *

 

[“Thank](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KfEEm4Zx-EU) you for coming in. Please wait in here and we’ll come and get you in a few minutes and ask you some questions,” Detective Smee said as he led Michael into the waiting room at the Orange County Police Station. Lucille Austero had gone missing two nights ago and the detective had asked Michael to come in and tell them everything he knew. Michael was feeling a little anxious—of course he’d had nothing to do with her disappearance, but the fact that he owed her seven hundred thousand dollars certainly made him look suspicious.

Detective Smee left and Michael walked towards an open seat, then recognized Lindsay sitting in the one next to it.

“Lindsay, hi,” he said, surprised to see her there. She looked up. Her eyes widened when she saw him.

“Oh, hi,” she said, looking very startled for some reason.

“They brought you in too, huh?” he said, sitting down next to her.

“Uh, yeah,” she stammered, looking flustered. “Yeah, Sally told them about those photos, it looks bad.”

“Photos?” he repeated, confused.

“You know, the ones I told you about?”

“Sorry, it’s not ringing any bells.”

“Oh. Doesn’t matter,” she said turning away. She still seemed very agitated. He assumed it was because she was nervous about being questioned.

“I haven’t heard from you,” she said after a pause, her voice wavering.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said, surprised. It was true that he hadn’t called her in a long time, but he hadn’t thought she cared. “I’ve had a lot going on lately.”

She looked up at him, a look of undisguised incredulity on her face.

“Sorry, I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said quickly, very confused about why she looked so angry. She could have called him if she wanted to talk to him so much.

“Hm,” she said icily, turning away again. Michael looked at her, baffled. Her jaw was set and she looked very hurt.

“Is everything okay?” he said hesitantly, thinking there must be something else that was bothering her. But this seemed to make her even angrier.

“Yeah,” she said forcefully. “Yeah, I’m doing great.”

“Great,” he said, more confused than ever.

“Did you get another bruise?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” he said uncomfortably. George Michael had punched him in the face the day before when he’d found out Michael was seeing Rebel Alley. “Long story. I don’t actually know where these came from, I must have forgotten…” he said, gesturing at the bruises on his face, then trailing off when he realized he didn’t want to share the fact that he’d gotten blackout drunk by himself either.

“Those were from Lucille 2 slapping you, weren’t they?” Lindsay said.

“What?”

“That’s what you told me.”

“When did I say that?” Michael said, bewildered. He glanced around anxiously, not wanting anyone to overhear Lindsay talking about some sort of altercation between him and Lucille 2 when he was about to be questioned about her disappearance.

“You know,” she said, lowering her voice. “On Cinco.”

“I didn’t see you on Cinco.”

She stared at him for a second, her mouth slightly open.

“What are you doing?” she said quietly.

“I mean, I don’t think I did,” he said uncertainly, realizing he might have, since he had no memory of that night.

“You’re just—you’re pretending it didn’t happen?” she said, her voice shaking.

“Pretending what didn’t happen?” he said, starting to feel a little freaked out. She slapped his face.

“Hey! What was that for?!” he said, putting his hand to his face where she’d hit him. The waiting room fell silent.

“You think if you pretend it didn’t happen it will just go away?!” Lindsay said furiously.

“Lindsay, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he said, panicking with everyone staring at them. She shrieked and started clawing at him.

“How could you—you can’t treat me like this,  _you can’t do this to me_!”

“Lindsay, stop!” he said, trying in vain to push her off of him.

“You think I’ll just think I’m crazy and forget about it, is that your fucking plan?!”

“Lindsay, listen, I don’t remember anything—”

 _“STOP IT!”_  she screamed. “Don’t you say another fucking word—”

Two police officers ran into the room at the sound of the commotion and pulled Lindsay off of him.

 _“I hate you!”_  she shouted, struggling to get free. “I’m done with you, I never want to see you again! I hate you, I hate you,” she repeated, devolving into sobs. Michael stared at her in shock. The two police officers looked at him with similar expressions.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9fKjWFLZW8) drove home from the police station. The sun had set and the night sky outside was a deep, warm shade of purple. Lindsay screaming at him about how he was pretending something hadn’t happened, his apparent motive, and his lack of an alibi had instantly put him at the top of the suspect list for Lucille 2’s disappearance. A polygraph test had at least helped his case that he had no idea what Lindsay was talking about or what had happened to Lucille 2, but he was sure they weren’t done with him yet, especially since he’d had to admit that he had no memory of that night. He couldn’t help but feel a little nervous himself. He was sure he wouldn’t go so far as to hurt Lucille 2, but he would feel a lot better if he knew what had happened.

And what had Lindsay been talking about? He thought about her crying, saying she hated him and never wanted to see him again. Jesus, what had he done? He’d called her as soon as the police finished interrogating him but she hadn’t answered. He’d assumed he’d gotten drunk alone in the model home on the night of Cinco de Cuatro, but he didn’t have any proof of that beyond that he’d woken up there with a headache and no memory of the previous night. Maybe Lindsay had gotten drunk with him and left? Or maybe they’d been somewhere else and he’d gone to the model home afterwards. Now that he thought about it, he did remember being confused about why he was wearing one of the yellow shirts from the banana stand.

He froze. An image had suddenly flashed into his mind of him and Lindsay in the banana stand. His heart started beating faster. Where had that come from? It must have been his imagination. He wouldn’t do that, no matter how drunk he was. Of course, the last time he’d gotten blackout drunk with her they’d kissed, but that was it. At least he thought it was. And he hadn’t known she was adopted then…

He started to panic. He wouldn’t, he’d refused her so many times before, and he hadn’t even thought about her that way since they’d stopped living together. But it would explain why she’d been so upset, what she’d meant when she said he was pretending it didn’t happen, even why she’d seemed so hurt that he hadn’t called her. Good god, had he actually had sex with her after all these years?

He needed to call her and find out what happened. He didn’t want to, he was afraid to know if it was actually true, and if it had been in his imagination he didn’t want her to know that either. But he needed to explain to her that he really had forgotten, she hated his guts right now. He reluctantly picked up his phone and called her.

 

* * *

 

Lindsay lay on the bed in her hotel room at the Four Seas, her eyes puffy and stinging from crying, which was about all she had done since she’d come here after the police had finished questioning her. She was sure her freak-out at the station had convinced them that Michael had killed Lucille 2 and she knew about it, but she was too upset to care. They couldn’t prove it since it wasn’t true, and she wasn’t too worried about making Michael’s life very unpleasant for a while.

She still couldn’t believe he would do this to her. He had a long history of treating her pretty callously when it came to anything non-platonic between them, but this was a new low. Did he think if he pretended nothing had happened for long enough she would just let it go and move on? She’d seriously considered telling everyone in the family just to humiliate him, and because she couldn’t entirely rule out the possibility that their father would murder him if he knew. But it would be her word against Michael’s and they’d probably believe him, which would be even more humiliating. Plus, she couldn’t risk letting it get out that she’d had sex with her brother just when she was preparing to run for congress. She was already going to be plagued by enough scandals as it was, what with the pictures of her with Herbert Love, the fact that she was under suspicion for his rival’s murder, and what had just happened at the police station, which she was sure would make its way to John Beard.

She heard her phone ringing in her purse. She ignored it at first, not feeling up to talking to anyone at the moment, then sat up when she realized it might be Michael again. He’d called her earlier but she’d let it ring. She intended to do so again, but she wanted to know if it was him. There was a small amount of comfort in the fact that he was trying to reach her now. She picked her purse up off the floor and took out her phone. It had stopped ringing now, but she could see that it was indeed Michael who had called her, and he’d left a message. Part of her wanted to keep deleting his messages forever and disappear from his life entirely just to show him that she wouldn’t let him treat her like this, but she couldn’t help it, she was just so desperate for an explanation.

She lay back down on the bed and played the voicemail.

“Lindsay, please call me back, I need to talk to you,” he said. The desperation in his voice was very satisfying. “I honestly didn’t remember, I must have gotten really drunk that night because I couldn’t remember anything when I woke up, but I—I think I remember now. Please just—please call me back.”

Lindsay lay still for a while. He could still be lying. He could have just changed his mind about gaslighting her when he saw how upset she was, but she already felt like weight had been lifted off her chest. He had been really freaked out that night, she could easily see him going home and getting drunk out of his mind. That was still hurtful, but it was a lot better than the alternative, and more plausible. She still couldn’t quite believe that he would lie to her about this.

She didn’t know if she wanted to call him back. She loved the idea of him waiting desperately for days after he’d just put her through the same thing. But if he was telling the truth then that wasn’t entirely his fault. She wanted to believe it, that he hadn’t meant to leave her hanging for the last two days like this. And she couldn’t help it, she wanted to hear him apologize, so she impulsively called him back. He answered almost immediately.

“Lindsay, hi,” he stammered.

“I got your message,” she said, not sure what else to say.

“I’m so sorry about earlier, I really didn’t remember anything from the fourth.”

“You weren’t that drunk when you left,” she pointed out, wanting to make him convince her that he was telling the truth.

“When I left?”

“Yeah, when you just left me there without any explanation!” she said angrily, still stinging from the memory and wanting him to know how much he’d hurt her.

“I-I don’t remember much, or anything really. I just woke up on the fifth and I couldn’t remember anything.”

“I swear to god, if you’re lying to me—”

“I’m not, really. Please, you’ve got to believe me.”

She hesitated. He sounded sincere, and she wanted so much to believe him. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“Thank you,” he said. She didn’t say anything, though it did feel good to hear the genuine relief in his voice that she wasn’t going to cut him out of her life like he’d threatened to do to her and the rest of the family so many times.

“So…what happened?” he asked tentatively.

“I thought you said you remembered,” she said, confused.

“Well, kind of, I’m not sure. Did we…?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said. Had he really forgotten the whole thing? “Yeah.”

There was a silence. “Oh god,” he breathed, making her furious at him all over again. “Wait, just to be clear, we—we had sex?”

“Yeah,” she said, frustrated and embarrassed. She didn’t want to recount the whole thing to him, why couldn’t he just remember it?

“But… _how_ , I mean, were we drunk?”

“Uh, no. Well—I mean, you were. Not that much though. It wasn’t like that, though, you were the one who kissed me.”

“ _I_  kissed  _you_?”

“Yeah, asshole!” she snapped. “I wouldn’t, I—I’m over that, I got over that a long time ago.”

He didn’t say anything. She hated him, knowing he didn’t believe her.

“You were kind of out of it, you were upset because you’d tried to sleep with Lucille 2 so you wouldn’t have to pay back a loan,” she said.

“Oh god,” he said again.

“You didn’t, you said she turned you down,” she said, briefly wondering if he actually had had something to do with her disappearance. He certainly hadn’t seemed like himself that night, but she still couldn’t see him doing something like that. “But yeah, I guess you were upset about that. And then you kissed me completely out of the blue, and afterwards you just left me there in the banana stand,” she said bitterly.

“Why were we in the banana stand?”

“I don’t know, it was nearby,” she stammered, angry that that was the part he was fixating on.

“Oh,” he said weakly. There was a pause. “You haven’t told anyone about this, have you?”

“No!” she said furiously. “God, is that all you care about?!”

“No, sorry,” he said quickly. “Wait, why are you mad?”

“Because—because you can’t treat me like that, I’m your sister!” she said, trying to think of some way to communicate to him how he’d hurt her.

“But you—you wanted to, right?”

“I don’t know!” she exploded, her eyes filling with tears again. “I mean, yeah, I guess, at the time. I definitely regret it now!”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was—I mean, I don’t even remember it.”

“Yeah, whatever, just—I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I can’t deal with this right now, I’m—I’m running for congress,” she said, wishing she could have revealed this in a more triumphant way.

“What?”

“Yeah, they asked me to run in Herbert Love’s place, we’re going to announce it tomorrow,” she said tiredly.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, so I don’t want to deal with you right now, so just leave me alone!” she said, and hung up.


	73. Part 3, Chapter 9

**October, 2012**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4qYDPAXRlA) sat on the couch in the living room of the model home, looking apprehensively at his phone. He’d finally decided to call Lindsay tonight, but he was still working up the nerve to do it. They hadn’t spoken since May when she’d hung up on him. He’d been trying to convince himself he was only respecting her wishes—she  _had_  told him to leave her alone—but he knew it was mainly because he was too afraid to talk to her.

He still felt so ashamed about what had happened that night, many of the details of which had come back to him now. He had a fairly clear picture of everything that happened up until he left her, though how he’d gotten to the model home was still a little fuzzy and he didn’t remember anything after he’d arrived. Thankfully, Lucille 2 had disappeared while he was still with Lindsay. It didn’t help him with the police, as he still didn’t have an alibi he was willing to tell them, but it at least gave him some peace of mind. Lucille 2 was still missing and the case remained unsolved. The detectives still seemed to think it was him, but without any evidence they couldn’t do anything about it.

Things were going a little better for him now. He felt terrible about it and hoped Lucille 2 was okay, but her disappearance had solved his debt problem. He’d also patched things up with George Michael, who was no longer dating Rebel Alley anyway after she’d left him for one of her costars in a movie she was doing. Michael’s movie about the family had never gotten off the ground, due to his inability to get his family’s signatures and his preoccupation with being investigated for Lucille 2’s disappearance, but he didn’t really care about it that much anymore. He was eager to get back to his roots in housing and give the Michael B. Company a second chance now that the economy was turning around.

Though he hadn’t spoken to Lindsay, he had been following the election. She was running against her old rival Sally Sitwell, who was running in Lucille 2’s place. It had been the ugliest election Michael had ever seen, even worse than when they’d run against each other for class president back in high school. Lindsay’s campaign had been hit by so many scandals that he’d lost count of how many times he’d thought it was over, but she was still clinging to a surprising amount of support. It didn’t seem to be enough to win, but he was still somewhat impressed, though disappointed in the voters of Orange County at the same time.

Now the election was in a week and he didn’t think he could put off calling her anymore. He still saw her campaign as something of a stunt, but he felt like he should be supportive, and he felt guilty about what had happened in May. He didn’t want this silence between them to last forever, and now seemed like a good time to end it.

He took a deep breath and called her. He waited as the phone rang, half hoping she wouldn’t answer, but then he heard her voice.

“Michael, hi,” she said, sounding surprised that he was calling her.

“Hi,” he said nervously, worried she would still be mad at him. “I’m sorry I haven’t called you, I’ve been meaning to—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” she said quickly. “How are you?”

“Good,” he said, surprised and grateful that she wasn’t mad. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she said, sounding nervous. “I’ve been very busy with the campaign.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. I’ve been following the election. Good luck next week.”

“Thank you,” she said with genuine emotion.

There was an awkward silence as Michael tried to find something to say. It felt strange to talk to her again after so long, and with all that happened between them.

“Sorry, I guess I don’t have much to say, I just wanted to wish you luck,” he said awkwardly.

“Yeah, thanks, it means a lot.”

“Of course. Well, I guess I’ll get going.”

“Okay, bye,” she said. “Wait, Michael.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh, we’re having a watch party on election night, you know, with all the campaign staff and donors. The family will be there too. You’re welcome to come if you want.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” he said, surprised. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Great,” she said sincerely. “Uh, I’ll have to check the time and the place, I don’t remember. I’ll text it to you.”

“Okay. Thanks, Lindsay,” he said, relieved and grateful that she seemed to have forgiven him.

“Yeah, of course. Bye.”

“Bye.”


	74. Part 3, Chapter 10

**November, 2012**

[Lindsay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmtFPqZmOdU) stood impatiently in the crowded hotel ballroom. It was election night and the watch party was just beginning. She spotted her campaign manager, David, coming back into the ballroom from the hallway. He’d just stepped out to call someone he knew at the polls and get some initial results. She quickly wove her way through the crowd to meet him, thanking the people expressing their support for her as she passed.

“Hey, how’s it looking?” she asked David when she reached him.

“It’s too early to tell,” he said.

“Okay, but who’s ahead so far?” she said impatiently.

He hesitated. “Sitwell.” Lindsay closed her eyes and groaned. “But like I said, they’ve just started counting, it doesn’t mean anything yet,” he said quickly.

“Okay,” she said, nodding, though she didn’t feel very reassured.

“Are you ready to give your speech?”

“What speech?”

“You’ve got to go thank everyone for their support, say something motivational, that kind of thing.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “I haven’t prepared anything.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, just a few sentences to make the donors happy.”

“Okay,” she said, still distracted by the news that Sally was ahead of her.

“The mic’s all set, go up there whenever you’re ready. Soon, though, everyone’s waiting to see you.”

“Okay, I can do it now,” she said. She’d given so many speeches lately that it didn’t really phase her anymore.

“Now you sound like a congresswoman,” he said.

“Thanks, David,” she said, smiling at the praise. They’d grown close after working together so much over the last few months.

She made her way back through the crowd towards the stage, still fixating on the initial results. It was too early to tell, it didn’t mean anything yet, but god, she couldn’t lose. She knew it was likely, all the polls pointed to Sally, but she wasn’t ready to accept it yet. She’d put so much work into this, she didn’t think she’d ever worked so hard at anything in her life, and she certainly couldn’t lose to Sally Sitwell. Sally had dragged her reputation through the mud in every way possible over the last six months. She’d publicized everything from Lindsay’s affair with Herbert Love to the fact that she was under suspicion for Lucille 2’s disappearance to a list she’d somehow managed to put together of every cosmetic procedure Lindsay had had since her nose job in high school, along with ‘before pictures.’ The thought of Sally claiming victory after everything she’d put her through was too much to bear. And she also wasn’t ready to give up her new life. She loved the campaign, giving speeches to adoring supporters who had somehow stuck with her through everything. She had to win, it was the only outcome she could handle.

She climbed the stairs up onto the stage and walked over to the microphone. The crowd erupted in applause when they saw her, the sound giving her new confidence.

“Hello, everyone,” she said. The room quieted down. “I just want to thank you all for coming here tonight, and of course, for all your support throughout the campaign. All the donors, and the campaign staff that worked tirelessly to get us to where we are today. And, uh, no matter what the results are, I’m so grateful to all of you…”

She trailed off when she was Michael at the edge of the room. She’d known he would be here, she’d invited him, but it was still a shock to see him in person. The last time she’d seen him was six months ago when she’d attacked him in the police station, and the time before that was when she’d had sex with him. She’d decided to forgive him shortly after their phone call in May. She’d realized that most of her anger had just been because she’d had trouble switching gears after thinking he’d lied to her about forgetting that night. She gave him a shy smile. He smiled back, looking pretty uncomfortable himself, though the sight still filled her with emotion.

“Put up this wall!” someone in the crowd shouted.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Lindsay said, trying to regain her composure. “Let’s put up this wall! Thank you,” she said, and left the stage as everyone cheered.

 

* * *

 

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33Lkt-U3LoE) stepped out of the hotel into the cool night air, somewhat relieved to get away from the crowd. He’d been feeling a bit awkward at the watch party since he didn’t know anyone there, so he’d decided to step out for a little while and go for a short walk through the hotel gardens. He hadn’t talked to Lindsay yet—he’d tried to a few times but she always seemed busy to talking to other people and then he’d lost track of where she was.

Miraculously, she was starting to pull ahead of Sally Sitwell, outperforming even her own campaign’s expectations. He didn’t know what she would do if she won. She had no government experience—she didn’t have any kind of experience really, she’d never held down a job for more than a month. Not that Sally Sitwell was very qualified either, but she at least seemed more competent than Lindsay. He’d still voted for Lindsay, though, if only because he didn’t want to have voting against his own sister on his conscience and one vote wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

“Hey, Michael!”

Michael looked over and saw Lindsay sitting on a bench off in a shadowy corner under some trees.

“Oh, hi,” he said, surprised and somewhat caught off guard. “I’ve been trying to find you.”

“Yeah, I sneaked out here for a drink,” she laughed sheepishly, holding up the silver flask in her hand as he walked over to her. “Can’t be seen at the bar.”

He laughed and sat down next to her. It was strange to be so close to her. It was the closest he’d been since he’d remembered what had happened. “Nervous?” he asked.

“Yeah, a little,” she said. “I can’t believe I’m ahead.”

“Me neither,” he said emphatically. She nodded and took a drink, looking a little shell-shocked. She was wearing a black dress similar to the one she’d worn on Cinco de Cuatro.

“What are you going to do if you win?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, are you going to accept it and become a representative?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” she said indignantly.

“I don’t know, I guess I just…yeah, I guess you would,” he said, wishing he hadn’t said anything.

“I didn’t do this campaign for nothing, I want to win,” she said, looking annoyed.

“Yeah, I know, sorry,” he said. They didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Do you think I will?” she asked tentatively.

“I don’t know,” he said, surprised at the question. “The results are looking good.”

“Yeah, they are,” she said. “You voted for me, right?” she said teasingly, though there was a note of seriousness in her voice.

“Of course, I wouldn’t vote against my own sister.”

“Good,” she laughed.

He smiled at her, acutely aware of the fact that it had taken six months for him to call her. “Thanks for inviting me here,” he said.

She smiled. “Of course. Thanks for coming.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t called you,” he said hesitantly, reluctant to bring it up but feeling like he owed it to her.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly.

“I’ve been following the election on the news. It’s amazing you’re doing so well.”

“Thank you,” she said with genuine emotion, clearly surprised. “It means a lot to me, this election. I’ve put so much work into it.”

“Yeah, it’s really impressive. Let’s hope it pays off.”

“Yeah, let’s hope so.”

He smiled at her, then looked away, thinking of that night again in spite of himself. It had been torturing him for the last six months, and being with her again only made it worse. He couldn’t look at her without the images coming back to him. It was worse than it had ever been, now that he had little slivers of memories of that night, just enough to make him feel frustrated that he couldn’t remember more. He couldn’t help it, it hadn’t been enough. In a pitch black banana stand with her dress on the whole time, and he could barely even remember it. If he had to live with the shame of having had sex with his sister he at least wanted it to feel satisfying, which just made him hate himself even more. He felt so ashamed that he’d had so little self-control, that he’d messed with her emotions again after everything he’d put her through over the years, and that he still wanted her like nothing else. He didn’t want to think of her like this, he wanted so much to see her as only his sister, but there was nothing he could do, he’d changed their relationship forever.

“Well, I should go back in now, there will probably be more results coming in,” Lindsay said, putting the flask in her purse. “Do you want to come with me? It would be nice to have some family there.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, touched that she wanted him with her.

“Great,” she said, and they got up and headed back inside.

 

* * *

 

[“What](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCfWAVRR794) is taking so long?” Lindsay said impatiently. She and Michael were sitting at the back of the stage. One of her aides had been coming in every twenty minutes to write the latest results on a whiteboard on the stage. “It’s been twenty minutes, hasn’t it?”

“I think so,” Michael said.

“Did you see what time it was the last time he wrote it?”

“I didn’t see—”

“Damn it,” she said, clearly on edge. Her lead on Sally Sitwell had only continued to increase and the excitement in the room was palpable. Even Michael was starting to get caught up in it, though it was mixed with a growing sense of apprehension. Good lord, what had Lindsay gotten herself into?

The door from the hallway opened and the aide came in, a grin on his face.

“Oh my god,” Lindsay said, grabbing Michael’s arm. He jumped a little in surprise at the unexpected touch. He was still anxious that people would somehow guess what happened between them. “He’s smiling, right, he’s smiling?”

“Yeah, he’s smiling,” Michael laughed.

The aide climbed up the stairs onto the stage. Lindsay stood up, her mouth slightly open. Michael unconsciously stood too, caught up in her excitement. Instead of going to the whiteboard the aide went to the microphone.

“And they’re calling the election…” he said. “For Lindsay Bluth!”

Lindsay shrieked with excitement and before Michael knew what was happening she’d thrown her arms around him. He stepped back automatically, panicked at her embracing him like this in the front of everyone, then realized no one would think anything of her hugging her brother right now and hugged her back.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” she whispered, clinging to him tightly.

“Congratulations, Lindsay,” he said, grinning uncontrollably.

She pulled away and laughed weakly, looking a little embarrassed but smiling breathlessly. He grinned back, forgetting all his doubts about her qualifications for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked so happy. She turned to face the room as the cameras flashed. Michael just kept watching her as her beautiful face glowed at the sight of the cheering crowd, and he’d never felt so confused, but he knew that he loved her, god, he loved her.


	75. Part 3, Chapter 11

**December, 2012**

[Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eEe_yCVLQSc) drove up the long road through Sudden Valley to the model home. It was a rainy December night and he was driving home from his mother’s. She had asked for his help taking down her Christmas decorations since Lupe had finally quit and Lucille hadn’t found a replacement for her yet.

His phone rang as he pulled his mapping car into the driveway. He looked over at it and saw Lindsay’s name on the screen. She was leaving for D.C. in the morning. He hadn’t seen her much since the election, only at family get-togethers for Thanksgiving, their birthday, and Christmas. Things were still very awkward between them, but they’d started to go back to normal. He didn’t know how their relationship kept bouncing back like this, but he was grateful for it. He was eager to put Cinco de Cuatro behind them as quickly as possible. He parked the car and answered the phone.

“Hey, Lindsay,” he said.

“Hi, can I say stay with you tonight?” she asked. “My house is all packed up and I don’t have anywhere to sleep.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” he said, getting out of the car into the rain, which was really coming down now.

“Great, are you still living in the model home?”

“Yeah,” he said, hurrying in from the rain and getting out his key.

“Okay, I’ll be there in about half an hour.”

“Okay, see you then.”

“Yeah, see you.”

 

* * *

 

Michael took two champagne glasses out of the cupboard and rinsed out the dust in the sink. He’d guiltily realized that neither he nor anyone else in the family had done anything to celebrate Lindsay’s election victory, so he’d decided to get out the champagne. He was a little uncertain about the decision—it hadn’t gotten any easier to ignore his attraction to her, and he was apprehensive about adding alcohol to the equation—but he felt like he should do something to celebrate this exciting new chapter of her life. He also didn’t know when he would be seeing her again, and he’d always had fun drinking with her in the past. He wanted to believe that he had enough self-control to get through one night of drinking with her without anything happening.

He heard the front door open. He turned and saw Lindsay coming in with her suitcase, raindrops glistening in her hair.

“Hey,” he said, walking up to meet her.

“Hi,” she said.

“Here, I’ll get that,” he said, taking her suitcase. “Do you want to take your old room?”

She laughed. “Sure.”

He carried her suitcase up the stairs and put it in the pink bedroom Lindsay and Tobias had shared when they’d been living with him. They had finally gotten divorced, a move Lindsay had pushed for just as she was beginning her campaign. As far as Michael could tell, neither of them had any regrets about the decision. He went back downstairs and saw Lindsay waiting in the kitchen.

“I see you got out the champagne,” she said, nodding to the bottle and glasses on the counter.

“Yeah, I thought we should do something to celebrate you leaving for D.C. tomorrow, it’s a big deal,” he said, joining her in the kitchen.

She smiled. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

He opened the bottle and the champagne fizzed out.

“Are you ready?” he asked, filling the glasses. “To be a representative, I mean?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said with a grim smile. He wondered if she was having doubts. He certainly was. He pushed her glass towards her. She took it and held it up.

“Cheers,” she said. He raised his own glass.

“To your new life as representative of California’s forty-eighth district,” he said.

She laughed and clinked her glass with his.

 

* * *

 

“So what did you do today?” Lindsay asked Michael as he refilled her glass. They were sitting on the couch and getting started on their third round of champagne.

“Not much,” he said. “Did some errands, went to Mom’s and helped her with Christmas decorations.”

“Hey, I saw Mom today too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, she came with me to pick out a dress for the swearing-in ceremony. I shouldn’t have let her come, the whole time it was just, ‘Are you sure you don’t want to wear something that will cover your arms?” or, ‘Don’t wear gray, the goal is to look less like a whale, not more.”

“Jesus,” Michael said.

“Yeah,” Lindsay laughed, pleased with his reaction. She’d always liked relaying to him all the horrible things their mother said to her. “I ended up going with a sleeveless gray dress.”

Michael laughed. “Nice.”

She laughed too, feeling an unexpected rush of emotion. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed talking to him like this. Things weren’t completely back to normal—she still couldn’t stop thinking about that night, and she could tell he was having the same problem—but she finally shared Michael’s view that any kind of physical relationship between them would be more complicated than it was worth.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be a member of  _congress_ ,” Michael said. “When is the swearing-in ceremony?”

“January 3rd. Five days.”

“Wow,” he said softly.

“Are you proud of me?” she asked.

He smiled. “Yes,” he said. “I  _am_  a little confused by your platform though. What happened to being severely liberal?”

“Oh, that was just to get elected. Once I’m in office I can do whatever I want.”

“Wait, you mean—you’re just going to vote with the Democrats on everything?”

“Exactly,” she said, grinning.

“You’re not serious.”

“Yes, I am,” she said giddily.

“People are gonna go nuts!”

“I know. Pretty great, huh?”

“No, it’s not! You’re gonna get assassinated!”

She laughed. “By who, the CEOs who voted for me?”

“You certainly won’t be reelected.

“Who cares? I don’t wanna do this for more than two years anyway, and in the meantime I’ll go down in history for beating the system.”

“The system,” he repeated dryly. “You mean democracy?”

“Shut up, Judge Reinhold,” she said, frustrated that he wasn’t as excited about her plan as she was. “D’you want your tax money spent on a giant border wall?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Exactly. Trust me, it’ll be amazing. Think of all the attention I’ll get in the news.”

“I feel like you’ve already been in the news enough,” he said. The craziness of the election had attracted some national attention, particularly in the late-night comedy shows.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t  _good_  attention, that was for all the shit Sally dug up about me. I don’t want the world to see me as Herbert Love’s mistress. And everyone thinks I’m in the pocket of the millionaires now, I’ve gotta change that.”

“Well, I guess I can’t stop you.”

“That’s right,” she laughed. “Hey, d’you wanna watch Sally’s concession speech again?”

“No,” he said. Lindsay got out her phone. “I said no.”

“Come on, it will be fun,” she insisted, searching for the speech on YouTube. “Here it is.”

Michael sighed as she held her phone between them so they both could see.

“Well, folks, in a shocking development, Republican candidate Lindsay Bluth is the projected winner of this vicious and highly publicized congressional race,” John Beard was saying as pictures of Lindsay flashed across the scene. Lindsay laughed uncomfortably as a picture came up of her hugging Michael when she’d won the election. Michael laughed too, looking embarrassed as well. Lindsay had seen the photo in the local newspaper too. She knew they were only using it because it was a heartwarming picture, but it was a rather intense hug and it made her nervous whenever she saw it.

“And now we’ll hear from her Democratic challenger Sally Sitwell in what we are told will be her concession remarks,” John Beard said. Sally appeared on the screen, standing on a stage in front of her supporters.

“Thank you, thank you, everybody,” she said as they applauded. “Thank you so much.”

“Look at how upset she looks,” Lindsay said gleefully. “You can tell how shocked she is that she didn’t win. I love watching that alpaca squirm.”

“Alopecia,” Michael sighed. Sally’s alopecia was one of the things Lindsay’s campaign had managed to uncover during the election season.

“A few moments ago, I called Lindsay Bluth,” Sally continued. The crowd booed. “No, please,” she said. Lindsay smirked. “I called Lindsay Bluth to congratulate her on her victory.”

“Congratulate, yeah,” Lindsay said sarcastically, remembering Sally’s frosty call to her on election night. “Didn’t feel very congratulatory.” The video froze, buffering. “Oh no,” Lindsay said, and tried moving the slider back. To her chagrin it landed on the picture of her hugging Michael and froze again. “Shit,” she said, blushing and trying to move it to a different part of the video, but it was stuck. “Whatever, just forget it,” she said, and turned off the phone. Michael laughed weakly. She looked up at him and laughed too. “Come on,” she said, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, it’s a nice picture,” he said, though his face was little pink as well.

She laughed again and put her phone back in her purse.

“Hey, Linds, uh…” Michael said. “I’ve been meaning to apologize… you know, for what happened in May.”

Lindsay looked up at him in surprise. His face turned even redder.

“I thought we weren’t talking about that,” she said, half-jokingly, though her heart was beating quickly. She couldn’t believe he was willing to bring that up.

“Believe me, I’d rather not, but I think we should, you know, to kind of…clear the air, I guess,” he said, clearly embarrassed.

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry. I really wasn’t in a good state of mind that night.”

“I don’t really know what you’re apologizing for,” Lindsay said, laughing tensely.

“Just for…I dunno, for sending confusing signals, I guess. I didn’t wanna make it seem like…like I was okay with it.”

“It’s fine, really,” she said. She didn’t think she could stand to hear him talk about how wrong it was again. “I’m not confused.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

“I mean, it was the first time I didn’t have to fake an orgasm, I’m not complaining.”

Michael choked on his drink. Lindsay blushed.

“Sorry,” she said, immediately regretting her joke. “I shouldn’t have said that, that was inappropriate.”

He laughed weakly. “Yeah, a little.”

“I’m kind of drunk right now,” she explained.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he laughed, shaking his head. He hesitated. “Never?” he asked.

She laughed. “Yeah,” she said, blushing. “I mean, I have plenty of times, you know, by myself…”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Well, you asked!” she said indignantly, embarrassed.

“Oh yeah. Sorry,” he said, looking equally embarrassed. He shook his head again and laughed. “Well, that’s…flattering.”

She laughed. “Don’t get too excited, I think it’s mostly just a self-consciousness thing.”

She blushed again at the look of surprise on his face, wishing she hadn’t said that. He looked like he was embarrassed, touched, and confused all at the same time.

“Anyway…” she said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

There was an awkward silence as Lindsay tried desperately to think of something else to talk about. Michael seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“I wanna change the subject so badly but I can’t think of anything,” she said. They both burst out laughing.

“Yeah, me too,” Michael agreed.

“This is good, though, we’re talking about it, we’re clearing the air,” Lindsay said through her laughter.

“I didn’t wanna talk about it in this much detail.”

“You didn’t?”

 _“Nooo,”_  he laughed, shaking his head.

She rested the side of her face on the back of the couch, smiling affectionately at him as their laughter subsided. Her breath caught in her throat at the familiar sight of him smiling warmly back at her. She saw his smile fade slightly and knew he was thinking the same thing she was. She turned away.

“Uh, I think I’m gonna go to bed now, it’s getting kinda late,” she stammered. She couldn’t do it, it wasn’t worth it, she’d just decided she was done with that forever.

“Yeah, me too,” he said quickly, looking just as confused as she was.

“Okay,” she said, and started to get up from the couch, but then stopped. She hesitated, her heart racing, then impulsively turned back around and kissed him. He kissed her back without hesitation. She put her hands on his face, getting up on her knees as they kissed urgently, like someone was going to pull them apart any second. She sighed, thinking about all the years she’d spent waiting for him to come back to her. There was no point in trying to move on, she knew she would always be in love with him.

He pulled away. She gasped like he’d slapped her.

“Lindsay,” he said.

“No, don’t,” she said quickly, and kissed him again.

“Lindsay, I’m sorry…”

“Come on, I know you want this too,” she said desperately.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“We already have,” she said in frustration. “One more time won’t make a difference. Just one more time and we’re done.”

She kissed him again. He groaned as he let her kiss him, his body going slack. She could feel how much he wanted to let her continue. She caressed his face again, willing him not to run out on her. He sighed.

“Yeah,” he murmured between kisses. “Yeah, just one more time.”


	76. Credits & Notes

### Credits

  * Obviously this was based on  _Arrested Development_. All the characters except Lisa were from the show. Also, as you probably caught, I wove in a ton of specific lines from the show.
  * I stole a lot from [this Michael/Lindsay fic](http://portions-forfox.livejournal.com/19655.html). I hope that's okay. Originally I wasn't planning on posting this and was just writing it for myself, and by the time I decided to I didn't want to cut out any of that stuff. This is where I got the idea to make Lindsay anorexic. There also used to be some things in here that it looks like the author edited out. I don't know why, because they were amazing. One of them was that when Michael and Lindsay were teenagers they were drinking together and then they locked eyes and were about to kiss but then Gob came into the room. I did a very similar thing in the dancing scene. I also took the line "They sprang apart like they'd been scalded" directly from that.
  * Obviously I quoted a passage from  _Flowers in the Attic_ in the second chapter.  
I got almost all of my information about the 80s from [this extremely useful website](http://www.liketotally80s.com/).
  * I got almost all of my information about eating disorders from [this website](http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/learn).
  * In the scene where Michael helps Lindsay with her college essays, I got the first question from the 2016-2017 common app and the second and third from the 2016-2017 application for Dominican University. I made up the fourth one.
  * I found the practice test Michael and Tracey used online. I haven't been able to find the one I used again and I think it's no longer available, but I did find [this one](http://highered.mheducation.com/sites/0072994029/student_view0/chapter1/multiple_choice_quiz.html) from the same website with a lot of the same questions



### Notes

If you were paying very close attention you may have noticed a few discrepancies between my book and the show. I tried my best to make sure everything that happened in here could have happened based on what we know about the characters' pasts, but unfortuntaely, though _Arrested Development_ appears to have a meticulously planned timeline, there are actually a lot of contradictions. Whenever this happend I just chose the option that was more convenient for the story I was trying to tell, but there were a few really frustrating ones that I want to address here:

      * **Lindsay's plastic surgery**  — In season one of _Arrested Development_ Michael said he had a picture of Lindsay when she was fifteen before the plastic surgery, but in season four it says she got plastic surgery when she was twelve. I chose the "after fifteen" option because I wanted her disappointment that it didn't solve her problems to be one of the factors that set off her eating disorder, and I also thought twelve was way too young for someone to have plastic surgery
      * **Tracy vs. Tracey**  — On the boxes in the attic Tracey's name is spelled without an e, but everywhere else (like George Michael's marriage certificate and the captions during her scene in season four) it's spelled with an e, so I decided to go with that spelling
      * **Maeby's age**  — This was the most frustrating contradiction. In February, 2006, Maeby turned 16, meaning she was born in February, 1990. But in February, 2004, Lindsay and Tobias celebrated their fourteenth anniversary, meaning they would have gotten married in February, 1990. To make things even more complicated, Lucille and Tobias both said he and Lindsay struggled with infertility. The only way I could have explained all this was to say that Lindsay met Tobias during her senior year of high school, they immediately decided to have a baby despite the fact that they just met, weren't married, and she was in high school, they couldn't conceive and had to try several infertility treatments, one of which eventually worked, and they got married the same month Maeby was born. I doubt this was what the writers intended, so I had them get married in February, 1990, condensed the infertility struggles as much as I possibly could and said Maeby was born two years later, and then pretended she magically aged two years sometime between 1992 and 1998 when I didn't have any scenes with Lindsay. Ugh.
      * **Law school**  — In season four Michael said he had to quit law school when Tracey was pregnant with George Michael, but in season two Gob said Michael married Tracey when she was pregnant and in season three the caption said their wedding was in 1989, when Michael was 20. I don't think the writers meant to say Michael was in law school when he was 20, so I just ignored that detail. Maybe Michael's memory was really, really bad.



One more note: I'm really hoping the internet theory that Tracey is Ron Howard's daughter is true (meaning Rebel is her half-sister and George Michael's half-aunt!!!), so I left the door open for that when Tracey said her mother said that her father was a famous actor or director or something. It's so messed up, but I would like to see Michael and George Michael's reactions when they realize George Michael had sex with his aunt...


End file.
